


I Have Thought of Greater Things

by orphan_account



Series: PBJ [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe Meet, Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, No OD, Permanent Injury, Student Bitty, Student Jack, Trans Bitty, demi-sexual Jack, eventual polyamory, hockey injury, nhl jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:30:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When 25 year old NHL Star Jack Zimmermann is retired due to an injury, he has to rethink his life.  So he settles down with his house, his boyfriend, and the decision to attend Samwell University.  He expects a lot to change.  He does not expect the Georgia whirlwind that is Eric Bittle.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially PB&J trash, and I decided that this ship needs at least one multi-chaptered fic. And of course since I'm trash for AU, this is how it's happening. 
> 
> There's no major warnings for this fic, except Jack's canon anxiety, and at the beginning it talks a little about suicidal thoughts so feel free to skip past the part where Kent gets drafted first. I'll post warnings in pre-chapter notes if they're ever necessary, and the rating for this fic might go up. This first chapter of the fic is a prologue, and the next chapters should be about twice this long.

When Jack is twelve, he sits down with his papa and his uncle and asks, “How do you know if the injury is the end of your career?”

It seems like a fair question. Jack’s just had his first concussion—very mild, but scary. He’s a hockey prodigy, people keep talking about him being drafted before he has to even consider something like University. He’s spent most of his life skating with the pros, he knows all their tricks of the trade. He speaks terrible English, and has eaten the Hockey Diet since he could skate without holding his dad’s hand, and he doesn’t know that there’s anything for him in life but this.

He’s worried now though. He can’t go on the ice, he can’t watch TV, and he’s got another scan in a week to see how he’s healing up. What if they tell him, then, he’s never going back out there? What is he supposed to do? He doesn’t know anything else.

“Ah mon fils,” Bob begins, but Mario holds up his hand.

“The game-killer,” he says, using English so Jack will have to really pay attention to what he’s saying, “is the injury that makes your life flash before your eyes.”

“I don’t mean when you die,” Jack begins, annoyance in his voice from both his headache and them not quite understanding what he’s asking.

Mario just shakes his head. “No. Jacky. Your life—your hockey life. Time slows down, you see it all pass by, like movie clips. It feels like it takes an eternity. You watch it all, you understand your purpose. Then you hit the ice and you come back to yourself changed.”

Jack looks at his dad. “Is that what…?”

“Ouais,” Bob says, and he sighs because this isn’t a talk he wants to have with his twelve year old who is already pushing himself too hard. A twelve year old the doctors say should be taking at least some mild medication for anxiety—the doctor used words Bob couldn’t get his head around, though his wife seemed to get it and she cried later, but thought maybe it was a good idea.

Jack swallows thickly and looks between Bob and Mario over. And over. He rubs the back of his head and sighs. “That didn’t happen to me.”

Mario laughs and claps Jack on the knee. “Of course it didn’t. You’ll be back out there in no time.”

*** 

That’s not a lie. He was. He was back out there, and at fifteen he met Kent Parson and his entire world changed. He kept taking his meds and he kept competing against Kent because Kent was actually good—might have actually been better, and on their off time they would sit too close and feel too fucking many feelings.

Then on Jack’s sixteenth birthday Kent kissed him on a roadie and he kept kissing him until Jack lost all reason, and all sense, and his entire heart was in Kent’s hands.

Kent was drafted first. His gut was spilling all over the floor because Kent was drafted first and nothing he did was good enough. And there were pills in his hand and fuck the temptation was too fucking much, but then he thought about his dad, and he thought about Mario. And he thought about how he didn’t want to see his entire Hockey career flash before his eyes yet. Not yet.

So he put the pills in the toilet and he called Kent. Then he called his dad. Then he went home.

One year of gruelling practise and therapy, and Jack was drafted second. To the Bruins, and it wasn’t great, and he had to live all the way across the country from Vegas and from Kent and from everything. But he was nineteen and it was okay. He and Kent talked a lot, and fucked each other during the off season, and had angry post win/loss sex every time the Aces came up against the Bruins.

Jack was traded the year Kent won his first cup, and got the C.

The Falconers welcomed him, and he took them to their first championship two years later.

It took another two years before the Falconers made their offer to Kent who surprised Jack and the entire fucking world, and accepted. They got a house, and a dog that looked like a mop which Kent couldn’t stand, and a cat who waited on high surfaces to attack Jack when he was trudging into the kitchen for his protein shakes. Jack and her have a mutual understanding built on suspicion and loathing. Kent buys her everything money can buy for cats, and starts an Instagram for her.

They love each other. A lot. And they fight. A lot. And they fuck. A lot.

It’s life and there’s hockey and there’s this, and Jack swears that so long as nothing changes, he can get through every hard time that comes his way.

*** 

Jack is twenty-five when he discovers that Mario hadn’t been lying about the moment your hockey life flashes before your eyes.

Every hockey player knows that it just takes the right combination for everything to go wrong. Right place, wrong time, really. Jack is halfway up in the air when it starts to happen. He’s moving in slow motion. He sees every goal he ever made, every goal he ever missed. He sees every moment he went gloves off, every penalty, every check.

Then he hits the ice with a sickening crack and it’s right when Tater is checked by one of the D-men and he goes down and his skate gets right in that one little crevice between his pads and there’s just…blood everywhere and Jack knows that everything is wrong because he’s totally numb from the knee down.

He’s half-giddy and half-terrified and he sees Kent pale faced and fighting to come with him but they still have a fucking game to win because the cup is on the line and Kent knows Jack will never forgive him if they lose this and Jack doesn’t get his fucking ring. Especially if this was going to be his last moment on the ice.

So Kent nods at him as he’s being taken round the corner and then Jack’s being loaded up into an ambulance. He begs the EMT to check his phone. “I have to know,” Jack slurs because they’re putting something in his arm—an IV, he thinks, because fuck he’s still bleeding and now it’s kind of starting to hurt.

By the time they get to the hospital the EMT says, “The Falconers win,” and Jack slumps over and promptly passes out.

*** 

He knows it’s the end by the look on the doctor’s face. He’s had a surgery, and the anaesthesia is starting to wear off, and he’s uncomfortable. His leg isn’t in a cast, but it’s bandaged and he can’t wiggle his toes which is probably a very bad sign. The doctor is saying something about his knee cap but he can’t really retain the words now.

He can see his parents in the corner of the room, but the sides of his vision are blurry and he just smiles and says, “Merci,” and the doctor leaves.

His dad eventually approaches him first and takes his hand. “The boys will bring the cup by once you’re well enough to have visitors.” His dad’s speaking French because Jack can’t even hope to understand English when his head is like this.

He laughs. “We won. They won. They…did it.”

Bob sighs and squeezes Jack’s fingers. “You’ll walk again.”

“But I won’t skate.” Bob opens his mouth to protest but Jack shakes his head. “I saw it. Like Uncle Mario said.”

Bob’s face crumples and he sits down. “I didn’t want this for you, mon fils.”

Jack just shrugs and thinks he’ll probably be more devastated later when the drugs wear off and he can fully comprehend that his career is over at twenty-fucking-five. But for now he just gets a small cup of ginger ale from his mother and turns on the tv. Food Network is on. Some show about cakes, and they watch it until Jack falls asleep.

*** 

He wakes up hours later to find Kent in the chair near the bed. It’s dark out, and Kent’s drooling and holding his phone. Jack tries to move, but holy shit everything hurts and he groans so loud Kent snaps to attention. His blue-grey eyes are red-rimmed and he looks like he’s been up for days.

The second he sees Jack awake, he crawls into the bed—on his good side, and pushes his face into Jack’s neck. “If you ever, ever fucking scare me like that again…”

“Won’t,” Jack mutters, and reaches over to put his fingers in Kent’s hair, mussing it up. “It’s over. I’m not going to skate again.”

The one thing he can do is trust Kent not to feed him bullshit, feel-better lies. He looks at him and Kent lifts his head and just says. “Well fuck. What are you going to do?”

Jack just laughs and says, “I always kind of wanted to be a history teacher. Maybe I’ll go do that.”

“You have to go to University for that,” Kent reminds him.

Jack shrugs. “Got millions, what else am I going to piss it away on.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kent says, but his eyes are shining bright. 

“Still love me when I’m in tweed?” Jack asks.

Kent kisses him to shut him up. “Never again. Promise me.”

Jack sighs and holds Kent tight. “I promise.”

He knows the one, single good thing about all this is when Kent is traded—and he will be, Jack knows this—there won’t be any issue about him going with.

So this is his life now. And maybe…maybe he really will enrol. Maybe he really will be a history teacher. He’ll learn that there’s life outside of Hockey or…something.

*** 

Samwell University is close. It takes Jack thirteen gruelling months to get back on his feet, and he uses his first independent day to pay his tuition for the upcoming fall semester. He’s getting his degree in history, and he’s going to teach some day. He’s probably going to wear tweed and carry a briefcase and he’ll spend his time reading books instead of watching tape.

But he’ll get to come home to his dog and the cat and his annoying boyfriend and their little house and it might not be ideal, but it’s something and Jack knows he’s grateful for it.

Then he turns a corner, looking up at the building, and he’s barrelled into suddenly by a flash of blonde hair and bright red hoodie. The short kid is on his phone, and he’s bright red in the cheeks as Jack extends a hand to help him up.

Then he smiles like the fucking sun and Jack feels a strange beat in his heart as the kid says, “Oh good lord, I’m so sorry. I’d ask if I hurt you, but that was like running into a tree.” His accent is as sweet as a Georgia peach, and Jack swallows, then offers a smile of his own.

“Then I should be asking you if you’re alright.”

The kid’s smile brightens even more. “I’m right as rain, don’t you worry ‘bout me. I should be paying attention, I know. But it’s all so…incredible, isn’t it? Gosh I just…I feel like I’ll never get used to it. Anyway I’m late for my team orientation but maybe I’ll see you around…” He’s back on his phone and hurrying away and Jack thinks for a second he can breathe until the kid stops and turns back. “I’m Eric, by the way. Eric Bittle. Nice to meet you, Mr Giant.”

“Jack,” he calls out, then Eric smiles that sunny smile again and Jack realises what that feeling in his chest is and oh. Oh no.

He thinks of Kent and wants to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s…small.”

Jack startled at the sound of the voice echoing. The hardwood floors made everything ten times louder than their soft, carpeted condo in Providence, so it’s…different. Kent’s voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere, and then a warm arm snaked around his waist and hitched him close to speak in his ear.

“You really think you can live in a place this small?”

The apartment isn’t far from campus, enough that Jack can walk if he wants and it won’t put too much strain on his knee. He’s taking two lecture classes and three online classes because there’s no way he could get around from building to building without really messing something up.

It was a difficult decision in the first place, moving here. It’s an hour from Providence, and there’s no way he can commute every day. And neither can Kent, with five am skates and all the travelling he’ll have to do. So it’s…this. It’s this or…well. He doesn’t know what, really.

“I don’t mind it,” Jack murmured quietly as Kent pressed a kiss behind his ear. It’s awkward seeing as Kent is several inches shorter than Jack, but up on his toes it’s not that big of a difference. 

Kent sighed, pressing his face between Jack’s shoulder blades. “It’s far.”

The wave of guilt hit Jack again. Samwell is a family tradition on his mother’s side. And he likes the idea of being able to go here and find something just for him that isn’t Hockey because there’s not a whole lot else out there. When both his parents and Kent suggested he just live off his money—maybe even coach a team—Jack felt an ancient wave of panic he hadn’t dealt with in years, creeping into his bones.

Kent realised the signs early and was quick to wave it off with reassurances, “Just want you happy, babes.”

Jack isn’t exactly sure this is going to make him happy, but it’s something. “Look, you’ll be on the road half the time. We can skype, we can commute. You can sleep over when you don’t have morning skates. I’ll come home on the weekends.”

The problem was, they were used to each other. Season and off season, they did press and roadies and home games, and holidays together. Now it was…it was like every other player in the league who had spouses who just dealt with the players being away for so damn long.

Neither of them were entirely prepared for the weight that would settle on their shoulders because of it. Part of Jack wanted to just shove Kent up against the wall and kiss him until he agreed to just retire and they’d go live off their fortune in some Villa in Mexico near the beach.

“It’s fine,” Kent finally said. He turned Jack in his arms and cupped his cheek, his soft eyes looking sad but content with what he had. “We’ll get some furniture delivered and you can set up some nerdy little study area. Maybe get another cat.”

Jack pulled a face. “I don’t want a cat, crisse as if your little demon isn’t enough.”

“My sweet princess is everything. But I don’t want you to be lonely.” He gave Jack’s cheek a pat just this side of not-quite soft, then backed up, walking still facing Jack until he entered the kitchen. “Nice space here. You’ll have to learn to cook.”

“I can cook,” Jack mumbled, which was half true. He could make a handful of pasta dishes, and everything on their meal plan menu which technically he didn’t have to follow anymore.

Though he’d been living like that since eighteen and he didn’t know how to eat any other way. It also didn’t help he’d put on weight already just from the fact that he wasn’t allowed to go hard anymore lest he really lose the damn knee. He didn’t want to think about Kent looking at him and suddenly realising Jack wasn’t as fit as he used to be. He didn’t want to think about wandering eyes.

His throat went a little tight, and he cleared it as he walked over to the terrace window. It was a sliding door which didn’t open all the way, but enough that he could squeeze out. The old tenants left a couple of wrought iron chairs which were rusted, but usable. There were a few cigarette butts, and in the green bush near the fence were a couple of beer cans half-crushed.

It was a college town. It wasn’t Providence, it wasn’t what he was used to. But it was home now.

He’d signed the papers and they’d go make a trip to Ikea and pay some sophomore kids who needed beer money to assemble everything whilst they were back in Providence packing up Jack’s things.

Classes started in six days and then…life would start too. New life. Jack gripped the door handle to the terrace and took a breath. He smiled a little when Kent’s arm came around him, not hearing him come over but unsurprised to find him there when he needed him most. He closed his eyes and took a breath and wondered how long it would be before this place smelt like home.

*** 

Jack didn’t expect the rain. In fact, he didn’t think most of the people in the bookstore expected the rain. Half the people were in shorts and t-shirts, and most of them dripping wet and shivering because the cold that accompanied it was unpleasant.

He had a light jacket on, and a snapback pulled down low because it had only been a little while since he was holding a damn Stanley Cup and making bedroom eyes at the ESPN camera and people still stopped him on the street for autographs when he wasn’t walking with his head low.

The bookstore was full of frantic freshman, trying to gather their booklist items, and slightly more exhausted sophomores who had that slightly more dead look in their eyes, and half-aware juniors and seniors meandering through the used stacks, trying to find the books with the least amount of highlighter on the paragraphs.

Jack had his booklist in hand—luckily he was taking an easy semester so he wouldn’t need too much. Almost all of it was history. His core subjects could wait, so apart from one of his English classes, he didn’t think the term would be too bad on him.

The books were easy enough to find, and he felt a slight wave of guilt knowing he could grab the new editions—ones that had never been touched, ones that were generally so far out of the price ranges of students that none of them even considered looking in that direction. But he didn’t think too hard on it.

He stacked them in his arms and got behind a shorter man who looked vaguely familiar, though Jack couldn’t place it. He was definitely younger than Jack, or at least he looked it, and had an oddly striking resemblance to Kent which made Jack miss his boyfriend fiercely.

The kid was blonde, couldn’t have been more than 5’6” in a pair of shorts and a tank top which looked soaked through. He was balancing books in his arms, looking like he might topple over, but he was humming some pop song under his breath and tapping his foot and looking far happier than anyone had a right to look standing in a queue of at least ten.

Jack bit his lip, then pulled his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and thumbed his contacts. He had a few emails from George asking him for a couple of appearances when he had time, and reminded him of something Kent was doing—Jack vaguely remembered his boyfriend signing up for some junior skate camp or something in December. He ignored those. It was still too fresh and the last thing he wanted to do was watch a bunch of kids with promise lace up on skates and think about when he was that age, when he thought he had an entire lifetime of hockey ahead of him.

He swallowed thickly, and pulled up Kent’s text thread. **Qu’est-ce que tu fait?**

Kent’s reply was almost instantaneous. _Why does that always sound like an accusation? I’m watching Chopped. This fucker here just made a vinaigrette out of cactus water. What the actual fuck. What are you up to?_

**Paying for books. Long line. Miss you.**

_Want me to come down?_

Jack sighed. He wasn’t feeling it, and he knew it would end up with wine and sex and Jack just wasn’t in the mood. Kent would have a better time with porn and his box of sex toys than Jack right now. **How about tomorrow. We can have brunch.**

_Miss you Zimms._ Kent added a series of increasingly annoying emoticons which Jack sighed at, but smiled a little as he shifted the books under his arm.

Kent wouldn’t expect a reply, so Jack tucked his phone away and was grateful to see the line was moving a lot faster than he thought it would. The kid in front of him was up next. Jack realised the kid had three of Jack’s same books, which meant what? They might be in a lecture together?

“Sorry,” said the girl at the till. “There’s been a system error and all of the funds have been delayed.”

“Lord, you’ve got to be kidding me,” the kid said, his voice heavy with a Southern drawl. Jack could see from this angle the way the kids’ cheeks pinked. “How much of a delay? Classes start Monday!”

Her face fell a bit, and Jack took an involuntary step forward. He looked at her, and his eyes widened to see a small Falconers badge pinned to the side of her green apron. He looked away, hoping she wouldn’t recognise him. “Two weeks, they think. It…it’s affecting everyone. The teachers are being really understanding.”

The kid groaned and his head fell down on the counter, his forehead thumping against the wood. “I got practise all week. It’s…I won’t have time to catch up!”

Jack’s mouth moved before he was really thinking about it. “I could…I mean. I could pay for them now, if you want.”

The blonde’s head snapped up and he turned, his dark eyes wide, his face pretty with a deep flush. He drank in Jack as though he was some type of apparition, even as the girl behind the counter whispered, “Holy shit, Jack Zimmermann.”

Jack swallowed and gave her his cursory, press-smile, but didn’t look at her. “I don’t mind. I mean…look we have the same classes. Some of them,” Jack clarified.

But the kid was shaking his head. “That’s real sweet of you. I mean real sweet, but I wouldn’t be able to pay you back. I get funds you know, sent here. They couldn’t like…give them to you. And it’s too expensive for me to…” He stopped, looking embarrassed. He turned back to the girl. “Two weeks? It took me an hour to find books in this condition. They’ll be long gone.”

Jack again, couldn’t help himself. “Maybe you could hold them for him?” he asked the girl, watching her face pale a little.

“Well it’s kind of…against store policy?” It came out like a question.

Jack offered a smile again. “Maybe you could…make an exception. You could just hold them for him and if there’s something you want…tickets or….”

Her eyes went wide and intense. “Shit. Home game tickets?”

Jack almost laughed. “Write down your email, and I’ll have Parse send them. How many do you want? How about six, one for each of his books.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed again, but scrambled for receipt paper and she put her contact info down.

The blonde looked at him with a raised brow. “Er. Do I want to know?”

Jack shook his head. “Listen, we have some of the same classes. If you like…you can borrow my books? Until the funds come through. Here, put your number in,” he offered over his phone, and with slightly trembling fingers, the kid took it. “I’m Jack, by the way.”

“Eric,” he murmured. “Everyone’s taken to calling me Bitty though. It…” He trailed off as he put his info in Jack’s phone, then turned back to the girl and gave his name and number so she could hold his stuff.

“Jesus, thank you,” she breathed. “I mean, I’m sorry about your books, but I just got home game tickets.”

Eric, who didn’t seem to know at all what that meant, gave Jack a long look before heading for the door. Jack watched him a moment, then slid his own books onto the counter as she rang them up, babbling the whole time.

“I know I must come across like a weird-o, but my whole family are huge fans. We’re from Providence, you know? God my dad, he actually cried when you retired. Openly wept. That’s so messed up, you know? Is your knee like…are you okay?”

Jack offered a small laugh as he passed his card over to her. “It’s not great, but I’m getting by.”

“And god, jesus, you’re coming here. To Samwell. I’m going to the same school as Jack Zimmermann. God my brother is going to shit.”

Jack laughed again. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” He took his bag, his receipt, then reminded her to check her email soon. He’d text Kenny with her info when he got home, then he slung his bag over his shoulder and started out.

He was two steps into the main lobby when he turned, and saw Eric falling into step with him. It startled him a bit, but he just smiled and carried on toward the doors. “It’s raining,” Eric said before Jack reached out for the handle.

Jack froze, then laughed. “Ouais. I noticed.”

“Uh. There’s…” He nodded at the café. “There’s coffee. I could at least get you a cup.”

Jack hesitated, then nodded, and the pair of them walked wordlessly into the small but crowded café. It was a short queue, and Jack ordered a small coffee whilst Eric grabbed a latte and scone. Halfway to an empty table, Jack was stopped by an older man who had a napkin and felt tip pen. He threw Eric a slightly apologetic smile as Eric snagged the table and Jack signed the autograph.

“Sorry to hear about the knee, man. Rough stuff.”

Jack offered his usual smile, the sting not as pronounced as it had been six months ago, and he made his way back to Eric who was watching him with a frown.

“Okay so you’re obviously famous,” Eric said, almost accusing. “For what?”

Jack shrugged. “I used to play hockey.”

“Hockey,” Eric repeated. “Hockey. Like…”

“I was the Captain of the Providence Falconers,” Jack said mildly. He took a sip of the coffee and was pleased with the taste. “I had to retire recently, accident took my knee out.”

At that, Eric’s face fell and he sat back with a whoosh of air. “Sorry to hear it.”

Jack shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Is that why you’re here? I mean…you’re not like the typical, over-excited Freshman.”

Jack laughed. “No. I’m a little older. But yes, that’s why I’m here. I was drafted at nineteen so I never got to do any of this…” He waved his hand round at the campus. “Never really thought about life outside of hockey.”

Eric bit his lip, then spoke as though the words couldn’t help but escape, “I’m on the team. The Samwell team. Hockey,” he said.

Jack blinked. “I…but you’re…” He was so small. He was tiny without any mass, and yeah Kent was tiny as well and had been Captain several times during the course of his career, but he wasn’t like this. “Oh.”

Eric blushed. “It…I used to figure skate, and I was on my co-ed team in high school. I did well enough, so I got a scholarship.”

Jack softened. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume.”

Eric shook his head, his face brightening a little. “It’s fine, really. Seems a little coincidental that I just so happen to run into the former Captain of an NHL team though.” Eric bit his lip through his grin, which made Jack’s stomach swoop. The way it had years and years ago when Kent first shot him a smirk.

He swallowed it down, worried. He’d never, ever felt that before. Never outside of Kent. He thought maybe it was just the change in life. And maybe it was the weather. “Well it is what it is. Luckily I could help her save your books. And you really are welcome to use mine.”

“Are you…you’re not livin’ in the dorms, are you?” Eric asked.

Jack couldn’t help his laugh. “No. No I have a place just outside campus. Not far, walking distance really.”

Eric groaned. “That’s the dream, isn’t it? My scholarship covers housing costs but I’ve been with my roommate all of twenty-four hours and I think I might lose it. There’s no kitchen, so no baking and I swear the place already smells like a gym bag. And I don’t think he goes to the gym.”

Jack chuckled. “Well you can come and use my apartment if you like. I only have two lecture classes—the rest are online. So I’ll be home.”

Eric looked at Jack carefully, then grinned shyly and took a bite of his scone. “You remind me to bake you somethin’ Jack. To say thanks. It’s the least I can do.”

“It’s really no worries,” Jack said.

They fell into a companionable silence, occasionally making small talk until their coffees were empty and the rain had stopped. They parted ways at the door, and as Jack started home, his phone buzzed. He half expected something from Kent, but when Jack opened his screen, there was an unknown number.

**Thanks for everything, Jack. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. PS I just googled you and oh my good gracious, you really are a star. Lucky me. Talk soon!** It was followed by a winking emoji, and then a sunglasses emoji which reminded him fiercely of Kent.

His heart was thumping, he realised, and he was standing still in the middle of the pavement, staring at his phone. The way his fingers were shaking, and the way he wanted to turn around and see Eric again, he realised he could be in very, very big trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack pushed the door to his apartment open, expecting little more than empty space and quiet walls. Instead there’s an overwhelming smell of curry, and the thrumming sounds of ESPN on his TV. Startled, he moved to put his things down, but his vision was taken up with blonde hair and soft eyes, and a gentle smirk.

“Didja miss me?”

Jack laughed, his keys falling to the floor as slender arms came round his waist. Hitched up, he dipped his head down and cupped Kent’s cheek as their lips met. “What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you have practise in the morning?”

“Five AM,” Kent said. “But it’s not that far. And what are you bitching about? Suddenly it’s a crime to want to have dinner with my boyfriend? Or are you hiding someone in here? I checked all the cupboards.”

Jack rolled his eyes, giving Kent a shove toward the living room where Kent had set up the curry spread. It looked amazing—not exactly in Kent’s diet plan, but he’d never really been good about sticking to that anyway. Jack only survived by learning to make a handful of baked protein recipes and running off all of Kent’s bad habits.

Now, he realised, none of that really mattered.

The pair of them slid onto the floor where Kent had thrown a bunch of the couch cushions, and their legs tangled together under the coffee table as they dug in. It had been the longest day, Jack still terrified because it had been way too many years since he was in a classroom and he wasn’t even sure he knew how to study. The first classes had been intimidating. The professors all talked really fast, and there were way more students than Jack thought there would be, and they were all so…young.

Jack had anticipated curling up on the couch and watching highlights of the pre-season and maybe texting Kent. He had not expected to have his boyfriend an arm’s length away.

“How was it?” Kent asked a little while later. They were showing college highlights now, and neither of them were really paying attention to begin with.

Jack sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa cushion, and quietly told Kent about his day. By the time he was done, they’d moved to the sofa, Jack tucked into the corner with Kent’s head pillowed on his thigh. Jack’s fingers carefully wove in and out of Kent’s hair, and he smiled every so often at the adoring look on his boyfriend’s face.

“How was the skate this morning?” Jack finished up.

Kent shrugged, turning onto his side as he pushed his face against Jack’s leg. “Same shit. Spent most of the morning fending off questions about your college experience.” He snickered into Jack’s hip. “They want to be invited to a kegger. So apparently you have to make friends with some frat bros.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’m exactly frat bro material.”

Kent sat up slightly, pushing onto his elbow. “Babe, you are a fucking rich as hell, celebrity sport star. You’re exactly frat bro material.”

“Ex sport star,” Jack corrected, and Kent’s face fell a little. He eased himself back down, then wound his arms round Jack’s waist and held tight. Jack let out a tiny sigh, pushing his fingers back into Kent’s hair. “I’m not…upset or anything. Yes, I wish I was back on the ice with you. I hate this, I hate living so far away from you but…it’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” Kent said, his voice muffled. “I just…I keep thinking about how I have to get in my fucking car tonight and drive home to our house and you don’t even live there anymore.”

“I still live there,” Jack said, his voice just as tight as Kent’s. “It’s just, I also live here, too.”

Kent huffed, then climbed onto Jack’s lap, straddling him. He cupped Jack’s face gently, their lips meeting in a slow, soft movement. “Are you…?”

Jack shook his head, his face drawn and apologetic. “Sorry. I’m…it’s not just you know, me. It’s also the meds. Upped my dosage until I even out and get used to the change in routine.”

Kent dropped gentle, easy kisses across Jack’s lips and cheeks. “It’s alright. I think really I just want this.” He twisted his fingers in Jack’s shirt and pushed his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck. “I hate sleeping alone.”

Jack ran the backs of his knuckles up and down Kent’s spine. “Je sais.”

Kent stayed on a few more hours, and as Jack was walking him to the door, his phone was buzzing. He swiped the screen, glancing down, and was a little surprised to see Eric’s name on the screen. **Hey Jack, um sorry for texting so late, but do you think we could meet tomorrow before class? If you have time? I wanted to read ahead a little and I forgot to ask if I could borrow the books.**

Kent peered over his shoulder and snorted. “Hot study date?”

Jack smacked Kent on the shoulder. “Shut up. He’s nice, and I felt bad. It’s…I don’t have the same experience as these kids. I’m not on loans or scholarships. It’s…” He trailed off, shrugging. He’d never had to go without, even before he was drafted, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to have to struggle.

“I think you did a nice thing,” Kent said, going on his toes to kiss Jack. “You should invite him to the opener. You’re coming, right?”

Jack stiffened, but nodded. He’d avoided games since his injury, but he knew it was time to get out there and start showing his team and his boyfriend some actual support. “Of course I will.”

Kent kissed him a few more minutes before peeling himself away and promising to skype him the minute he got in. Jack locked the door behind him, pushing his forehead against the door as he heard Kent’s car start up, and the fading sounds of him driving back to Providence. He ached. He missed him. He hated this.

With a sigh, he went back to the couch and stared at the table full of curry mess. His heart was heavy, and the thought of doing anything other than curling up with the lingering smell of Kent on his clothes was too much, so he did just that. He grabbed his blanket from the bedroom, put HGTV on low, then grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Eric.

_Yeah no problem. My first class isn’t until eleven tomorrow. When is a good time to meet?_

The response came back only minutes later. **Great! Umm, do you know where the ice rink is? I have an early morning practise, but maybe we can meet after?**

Jack stared at his phone. _Okay. What time?_

They arranged to meet, then Jack said goodnight and waited with his phone in hand until Kent’s skype call came through. The next hour was spent listening to Kent’s complaints about Snowy’s ankle injury, and Tater’s fussing, and Thirdy’s sick time because his kid caught the flu. It was nice. It felt normal, even if he wasn’t there. Even if that wasn’t part of his life anymore. He fell asleep minutes after Kent rang off, and dreamt of being back on the ice.

*** 

Jack arrived at the ice rink, finding the door open, and he let himself in. His leg was stiff that morning, the cooling weather having a profound effect on his movements, and the pins in his legs ached. His limp was way more pronounced, and it took him longer to reach the benches than it normally would have, which set his mood off a little.

He was wearing a beanie tucked low over his forehead, and a heavy jacket, and said a small prayer no one would recognise him. His hopes were dashed as he approached the rink and one of the players with a heavy moustache skated over, his eyes wide.

“Hol-ee shit, Jack fucking Zimmermann?”

The practise came to a screeching halt and Jack felt his shoulders sink. “Euh. Hi.”

“I can’t believe my eyes. I literally think I might have just died,” said another one.

Jack offered his most patient smile, a small shrug of his shoulders. “I was euh. Looking for Eric.”

The entire team looked confused until the goalie shouted, “Bitty.”

Jack flushed. “Yeah. Right, Bitty. Sorry, he’s…we’re working on something together for a class.”

“That little shit didn’t tell me he knew Jack Zimmermann,” the other D-man said.

Jack rubbed at the back of his neck, “Um.”

The first one turned, and Jack saw Knight emblazoned across the back of his jersey. He made a few hand motions, sending the rest of the team back to playing, and he skated over. “Sorry man, we didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You okay?”

Jack felt the knot in his stomach unclench. The guy was talking to him in a normal tone, not like a fan, and it made things instantly easier. “Yeah no, I’m fine. Sorry it’s just a lot. I should have realised walking into a hockey practise I might get recognised.”

The guy stuck his hand out. “Shitty Knight. I’m Captain of the SMH team. I’m a fan, and sorry to hear about the knee. That’s pretty fucked.”

Jack swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Yeah. But is what it is.”

“So you’re a student here now? You actually enrolled?”

Jack nodded. “Getting a history degree. For teaching?”

Shitty grinned. “Swawesome. I’m taking my LSATs this year, hoping to get in somewhere good.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Anyway sorry, you were looking for Bits. He’s…well had a rough practise. I think he’s probably in the showers or something.” He nodded toward the corridor. “Should be done about now.”

Jack thanked him, then tried to ignore the rest of the team immediately chirping each other for the way they nearly lost it. It made him smile a little, along with the flare of pain because crisse, he missed this. Too much.

He didn’t want to think about it now, though. Heading into the locker room, he found it empty, but still steamed up from the shower, so he wandered until he found a back door. There was a small loading dock, and Eric was there, one knee up, his head down. Jack frowned as he cleared his throat.

“Erm. Eric?”

Eric’s head whipped round, and although his eyes looked a little red, he immediately perked up. “Jack! You’re early.”

Jack bit his lip and shrugged. “Yeah, sorry. I’m usually up, still used to my old routine. Are you…do you need to go finish up in there or…?”

“No,” Eric said, a little too quickly. “I’m um. I’m done for the day.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. I brought the books,” he started to lift his pack off his shoulder, then stopped at the dejected look on Eric’s face. “But maybe we could go grab a coffee first. You look like you could use it.”

Eric smiled, though his mouth was still a little too tense for it to be genuine. But he nodded and climbed to his feet. “Annie’s?”

Jack shrugged, not sure what that was, but he let Eric lead the way. “So your friends in there…”

“Teammates,” Eric corrected.

Jack winced inside. He knew what being a rookie was like, and knew the shit Eric would probably take for being so small. “Give it time,” Jack said.

“Yeah well…” Eric stopped himself, but the tone was bitter and angry, and Jack wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew it wasn’t his place. Not yet, anyway.

“They said you had a bad practise?” Jack offered as they continued their walk. His knee was aching, and he said a silent prayer it wasn’t far. “Bad check?”

Eric bit his lip, then said, “You could say that.” He didn’t offer more, but pointed up ahead. “Just there. You been to Annie’s?”

Jack shook his head, then followed Eric inside. The queue was small, luckily, and the pair of them got coffee—Jack’s plain, Eric’s a latte with a pain au chocolat which was oozing at either side. They grabbed a table by the window, and Jack eased himself down with a small groan.

Eric pulled a face. “Bad?”

Jack blinked, then flushed. “Colder days are…not as easy. I get pretty stiff.”

“I googled you,” Eric admitted, looking a little sheepish. “I knew if the guys found out that I knew you and didn’t know who you were, I’d get chirped forever for it. I um…well I’m real sorry that happened to you. I sort of know what it’s like, when everything in your life changes.”

Jack tilted his head to the side, regarding Bitty for a bit. “It’s not easy.”

Eric let out a tiny laugh. “No, really ain’t. But you seem…I mean. Well you’re not fallin’ apart, are you.”

Jack laughed a bit and shook his head. “Not yet. Of course I haven’t been in school for a very long time so we’ll see. Yesterday was a little overwhelming.”

Eric nodded. “Yeah, I reckon it was. Me too, you know. I’m from this real small town in Georgia, and I’m excited to be here. Chose Samwell for a reason, and it’s been great but…also different. Sometimes you feel like everyone’s staring at you, dissecting you.”

Jack let out a rush of air. “I know what you mean.”

Eric’s smile was soft and bright, and the hand he placed over Jack’s, giving it a squeeze, was so warm. “I bet you do. Worse than me, I’m sure. But at least we can commiserate together.”

Jack almost, _almost_ made a noise of protest as Bitty took his hand away. “So about the books…?”

Eric blinked, then nodded. “Oh. Yeah, yes. Thanks. I called up the bookstore again and they said they’re still workin’ on it. Not easy, you know. Had to call up my parents for food money. Not that the dorms have a place for me to bake or anything…”

“Bake?” Jack asked.

Bitty shrugged. “I bake. Sort of a stress thing, but I ain’t seen the inside of a proper kitchen in a long time.”

“You’re welcome to use mine,” Jack said absently, then snapped his jaw shut because what was he _doing_? But he didn’t take it back, and Eric brightened.

“Really? You’re not…you got an apartment, right?”

Jack nodded. “Well, condo, but yes. And I never really had the time to learn how to cook, so it’s mostly unused. You can come bake any time you like.”

Eric’s cheeks went pink, and it looked like he was trying—and failing—to hide a sunny grin. “Thanks.”

Jack nodded. The sorrow from earlier had faded from his expression, and for whatever reason, that made a weight Jack didn’t know he’d been carrying, lift away.

*** 

Bitty agreed to meet Jack the next day to return the books. He told Jack he went to the library and made copies of everything he’d need for the classes, so he wouldn’t have to bother Jack about them again. It left Jack feeling a strange, hollow sensation until he remembered they could text still, and that Bitty might come use his kitchen if he felt the need.

There was a strange hovering of guilt, and he found himself not talking to Kent about it when they were skyping. The very idea of hiding things from Kent terrified him, but these feelings were new for Jack. He was demi-sexual, and living in the closet as long as he had, it took Jack a long time to feel comfortable with people. Kent had been his first, Kent had been his only. Jack had never even crushed on another person before.

He had to wonder if this is what it was.

Or maybe it was making new friends, exploring his new life. Bitty was a bridge to something unfamiliar, and he was kind about it.

Jack decided not to worry for the moment. There was no sense in getting worked up when he had four long years ahead of him to reach his next life’s goal.

In the morning, Jack headed back down to the rink, this time only poking his head in. He watched the players on the ice, noting their movements. They were good. The D-men had promise, and although Knight wasn’t the fastest with reflexes, his passion made up for it. They’d probably do good that year.

But there was something missing. And Jack realised Bitty was yet again, not on the ice.

Instead of heading inside, Jack went round the building back to the docks, and Bitty was there. He was curled up, knees to his chest, and it was obvious he was crying. Jack felt his heart thumping in his chest as he walked over, clearing his throat to make himself known.

Bitty’s head snapped up, and he quickly tried to swipe the tears off his face. “Oh. Jack,” he said, then cleared the thickness from his throat. “I…”

Jack eased himself up onto the dock and nudged Bitty’s knee with his own. “You want to talk about it?”

“Um.”

“You want to come over and bake something?”

There was a sudden light in Bitty’s eyes. “You…don’t you have class?”

“Most of mine are online,” Jack said. “Come on, I think I have ingredients.” He held out his hand, easing Bitty off the dock, and the pair headed back to Jack’s place. He would be missing a lecture, but there was no need to tell Bitty that. The kid obviously felt bad enough, and this was the least Jack could do.

When they got in, Bitty stared round with his big, dark eyes. He ran his hands over the granite countertops in the kitchen with reverence. “She’s gorgeous,” Bitty breathed.

Jack laughed. “Well help yourself. I don’t know what I have but…”

It was like watching an intricate, interpretive dance, the way Bitty moved round the kitchen. It was like he knew it intimately, like he’d been cooking there for years. Jack didn’t have all the appropriate cookware, but Bitty managed to get enough together to make an apple tart with something called a crumble, and Jack sat on the stool and watched, a fond smile on his face.

“You know,” Jack said, snacking on a few of the raw apple slices, “I played professional Hockey for many years.”

Bitty stopped, raising a brow at Jack. “Well no kidding, Mr Zimmermann.”

Jack chuckled. “I even won a couple of Stanley Cups. So…if there’s something you need help with. If you need advice on your game…”

Bitty suddenly deflated, like all the air rushed out, and he turned his back. “I’m not…I don’t think it’s anything you can help with.”

Jack was careful as he spoke next. “I’m not trying to pressure you. But I’d be happy to try. I’m…you’re nice, Bitty. And you’ve had two miserable days in a row.”

Bitty turned, and there was a faint pink to his cheeks as he set the knife down. “You’re gay, right?”

Jack blinked, then said, “Yes. I am. My boyfriend and I were one of the first players to come out in the NHL.”

Bitty nodded. “I’m afraid of being hit.”

Jack raised a brow, not quite sure how those two were related, but he nodded. “Okay.”

“Back in Georgia I was on…I was on a co-ed team. So there was no checking allowed. It was no-contact. I was the captain of the team, and I’m real fast, and I’m real good at the game. I am. But…” Bitty stopped, and dragged a hand through his hair. “I came to Samwell because they’re an LGBT friendly campus. They…let you come here, as yourself. Without having to you know…” Bitty trailed off, looking distressed.

“Bitty, it’s okay,” Jack said carefully. “Whatever it is…”

“I’m trans,” Bitty said in a rush. Jack blinked, then nodded for Bitty to go on. “I started HRT my senior year of high school. But my high school didn’t recognise you know…my gender, so they didn't let me play on the men's team. I had to stay co-ed, so I didn't get the experience I deserved. My parents are real supportive, and helped me find Samwell, and the scholarship I got didn’t…I didn’t have to jump through any hoops to be on the men’s team, you know? But I can’t…I keep freezing up on the ice whenever someone gets close to me. I…” He swallowed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I thought I was ready, but I don’t know how to get over it. I know I’ll be checked. I’ll be hit. But the coaches think…they think if I can’t get it together by the next game, I’ll be off the team. And I’ll lose my scholarship and…” His voice started to rise a little, and Jack quickly put up a hand.

“Bitty.” Eric took a breath at the sound of Jack’s voice. “A lot of players are afraid of being hit. That’s normal.”

“None of the other guys on the team have this problem.”

Jack nodded. “Not now, but I can guarantee you they did. I did, Bitty,” Jack said, and smiled when Bitty scoffed. “But I skated through. It’s just a matter of letting yourself face your fear.”

Bitty let out a trembling breath. “Right but…how do I do that?”

Jack bit his lip, and he felt something bubbling to the surface and he was trying to stop himself, but he couldn’t. “What if I practise with you? Skating, eh? We can work on checking together. We can start easy, and work your way up. I bet we can get you at least less afraid by the first game.”

Bitty stared at him, eyes wide, knife hovering over an uncut apple. “But…your knee. Wouldn’t you need to…”

“I can still skate,” Jack said. “Just…not the way I used to. But I can skate enough to do this.” It was true, though the thought of it was slightly overwhelming. Yet it didn’t terrify him the way he thought it might, getting back on the ice. “Let me help you.”

Bitty’s eyes were welling up again, and he was shaking his head. “Jack I don’t…I don’t even know how I could repay you for this.”

Jack chuckled. “How about you teach me to cook, eh? Might be good for me and Kenny.”

Bitty’s smile relaxed. “Oh I could do that. I could easily…really Jack? That’s all you’d want?”

Jack laughed. “It’ll be quite the challenge, I promise. I’m very bad in the kitchen.”

Bitty shook his head. “Well I’ll take it. If you can get me to take a check, I can get you to make a ratatouille.”

Jack threw his head back and laughed.

*** 

“…so I’m starting tomorrow.”

Kent was smiling soft, something in his eyes, something wary, but he was chuckling low under his breath. “Only you, Zimms. You’re gonna teach this kid how to take a check?”

Jack shrugged. “And he’s going to teach me how to make romantic dinners that won’t break Clare’s heart.”

Kent laughed louder at that and shook his head. “Well I can’t wait to meet this kid, seriously. He sounds pretty great.”

“He is,” Jack said, then bit the inside of his cheek because his feelings were still…confusing. He sighed and touched the screen. “I miss you.”

“Aww babes,” Kent said, then softened. “I miss you too. But I’ll see you this weekend, right?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll come home, bring my work with me and you can help me study.”

Kent laughed outright. “God, all the shitty Netflix documentaries I had to sit through, and now this.” But his tone was fond and Jack wanted to reach through the screen and kiss him, be held by him. “You know I’ll help. I can’t wait to see you walk across the stage in your cap and gown.”

Jack flushed. “Je t’aime mon loulou. I can’t wait to see you.”

Kent smiled and dipped his forehead toward the screen. “Soon, babes. Real soon.”

They signed off shortly after, Kent with an early practise and Jack with a lecture. As he lay there in bed, he felt his thoughts split directly in half. One side was with Kent, in their house, in their bed, Kit at their feet, fingers tangled together. His other half was at a café table listening to the southern lilt of Eric Bittle, watching his sunny grin, and wondering how he’d got this far in life without a friend like that.

It was strange, and a little terrifying, and for the first time Jack felt his world was truly turned upside down. Where it would land well, that was the question.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My next update will be super soon because I hate even vague cliffhangers.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter- mentions of transphobia/homophobia and bullying. Bitty's fear of checking trauma was due to bullying at school. He discusses some of this with Jack, but no details regarding the events.

Jack’s fingers were trembling as he bent to lace his skates. They felt foreign after all this time. He and Kent had skated once Jack had been given release to do so, but now, on his own…it was a lot. It was early, the sky was a mottled pink on the horizon. It had always been Jack’s favourite time of day, letting his skates cut through the fresh ice as the world welcomed the dawn.

He’d already texted Bitty, gotten a sleepy half-response, begging Jack to wait and not be too upset at his lateness. Jack had a feeling he’d be chirped for the hour, but it was all they could do. The rink was booked almost all morning, and Jack didn’t think Bitty wanted to work with curious eyes watching Jack Zimmermann get back on the ice.

With a short breath, Jack stood on the skates and headed for the rink. His fingers still trembled. It was the first time he was doing this alone, and part of him wanted to ring Kent and have him talk him through this. But he wanted it for himself, not just to help Bitty, but to prove he could still have a little bit of this. Even if it wasn’t everything he expected.

He wobbled a moment as he began to glide. His knee, which only had a fraction of its former range, threatened to lock on him. But it was nerves, he knew it. He took several breaths as he skated in straight-legged circles, and when he had his bearings, he picked up speed.

In the back of his head, memories rose. Memories of being a child, of chasing his father on the ice. Laughing. Having no idea what awaited him in the future—having no idea what the stress of bearing the name Zimmermann might cost him.

It took Jack years to understand his father loved him. Not because he was good at hockey but…just because. Because he was Jack’s father and there wasn’t anything Bob wanted more for his son than happiness. Jack knew it now, but there were old memories of bile, bitter in his throat, when he was so sure his failures had let his father down.

Other memories surfaces as he skimmed the ice. His first playoff game. His first loss. His first win. The first time he took the ice against Kent. The first time he took the ice with him. Their first cup together. Their first cup together after they’d come out, and got to share the kiss under the confetti and the screams of fans.

Jack was so lost in it, he only barely registered the slamming doors. “Y’all look way too cheerful for five in the morning.”

Jack’s gaze snapped up, and he saw Bitty there in jeans and a tight, form-fitting sweater. Bitty dropped to the bench to lace up his skates, his eyes bleary and half-lidded. His hair was still sleep-rumpled, and Jack did his best—failing spectacularly—to not find it adorable.

“Early morning’s good for you,” he said, coming to a slow stop by the wall. “Builds endurance. That and protein, which you look like you could use more of.”

Bitty’s glare was fierce. “Jack Zimmermann I will teach you only the broccoli recipes if you start with me.”

Jack chuckled, then beckoned Bitty onto the ice. He was nervous, Jack could tell that much about him. His hands were a little shaky, and he kept shoving them into his pockets as he did small circles round Jack.

“Let’s warm up. What gets you most comfortable?” Jack asked.

Bitty shrugged. “Speed skating. I’m fast. I’d challenge you to a race if I weren’t in hockey skates.”

Jack chuckled. “I wouldn’t win. My form isn’t what it used to be.”

Bitty’s face fell. “Oh lord, Jack I didn’t mean…I’m sorry I…”

“It’s alright,” Jack said, putting an arm on Bitty as they matched paces. “It doesn’t always feel good, but I can bring it up without falling apart. And this isn’t about me, okay? Let’s get you relaxed so we can start.”

Bitty nodded, then took off round the rink. Jack’s eyes widened. Bitty had not been joking—he was fast. More than fast. It was no wonder he’d been picked up for a scholarship, no wonder the team wanted him. Good hands, good speed. Jack hadn’t seen Bitty’s freeze when it came to checks, but if that’s all it was, the situation was workable. Easily.

Bitty skid to a halt next to Jack, his face pink from the exertion, and a small smile playing at his lips. “Okay I think I’m good. Um. What um…should we…?”

Jack bit his lip, looking round, then said, “Okay, let’s head near the wall and we can talk logistics.” 

Bitty looked properly terrified again, but nodded and let Jack follow him toward the wall. “Uh…so I…”

Jack took the opportunity then to check him. It was a slow movement, barely there, just a graze of the elbow. He expected Bitty to be startled. He did _not_ expect Bitty to freeze, then drop. Bitty’s face was instantly pale with panic, shaking as he held his middle.

Jack instantly went down, trying to avoid hurting his knee as he gathered Bitty up. “Shit, Bits. I’m…I’m sorry, crisse, are you…”

Bitty shook his head, swallowing over and over. His eyes were blinking, and he took several breaths before he could speak. “I’m…I didn’t expect…I’m sorry I…”

Jack carefully eased himself up, grimacing at the pain in his knee, but he got Bitty back to his feet, though he didn’t let go. “Is that what happens?”

Bitty nodded, scrubbing a hand down his face which was now red. “Yeah I uhh…it’s worse because Rans and Holster are…they get enthusiastic so every time I even think they’re coming my way I kind of…collapse.”

Jack rubbed his hand up and down Bitty’s arm until he seemed calmer. “Alright,” he said slowly.

Bitty let out a tense laugh. “Now you see what I mean? How it ain’t like that with the rest of the boys?”

Jack let out a breath as he dropped his hand. “Ouias. Let me…j'ai besoin de pense…” He was muttering, thinking hard, because this wasn’t a normal reaction. This wasn’t just fear. At least, not a run of the mill, I don’t want to be hit, fear. He turned, holding out his hand. “Skate with me.”

“Are you going to…?” Bitty asked in a choked voice.

Jack put his hand over his heart. “No. I won’t come at you again without you knowing it, and not until you tell me it’s okay.”

Bitty nodded, eyeing Jack carefully like he didn’t fully believe him, and Jack had a feeling maybe the others told him that in practise as a lie, in order to try and get him to face his fear. But Jack knew that way was not effective. At all.

Bitty took his hand eventually, and they began to skate wide circles round the rink.

“Tell me what happened,” Jack said after a while.

Bitty’s head snapped over. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Jack said. “I’m…look if it’s too traumatic and you don’t want to share with me, I understand. But tell me what you can. I know that’s not just a fear reaction, Eric. And I can’t help you if I’m working blind.”

Bitty gnawed on his lower lip, then said, “When I was a sophomore, I told my best friend I was gay. He thought I meant I liked girls, so he…was fine with it. And a little while after that I told him…I told him that I was gay because I liked boys, because I…was a boy. He didn’t say anything, but some of the other kids…they were on my dad’s team. He’s a coach, my dad. Football.” Bitty stopped, and his skating slowed, and Jack slowed with him. “I. I want to stop talking about it now.”

“Of course,” Jack said immediately. “That’s…you didn’t have to give me that much, but thank you.”

Bitty blinked at him, then offered a smile which was sweet, if not a little sad. “It’s just a lot.”

“I know. I can’t even imagine.”

Bitty let out a tiny laugh. “You came out. In the NHL. Come on, Jack, I know that wasn’t easy.”

Jack flushed, then shrugged. “It wasn’t. But I had support from the boys, and an entire PR team behind me who could manage all my social media and press. I didn’t do it alone.”

Bitty chewed on his lower lip. “Do you think I’m hopeless?”

“No,” Jack said. “I think you’re scared and that’s normal, and I think that you can get through it.”

Bitty licked his lips, then let out a harsh puff of air. “Okay. So what do we do?”

*** 

By the end of their session, Bitty had made progress. He shook, and twice his eyes filled with tears, but he didn’t fall again. Jack would have Bitty stand against the boards, and he’d come at him. He’d keep Bitty’s gaze on his the entire time, move slowly, stop if it was getting too much. By the end of the afternoon Jack could come at him with some speed, and Bitty was taking it.

“Checks don’t actually hurt as much as you think they will,” Jack said as they walked. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, and they were heading toward Jack’s condo. “I think the anticipation is worse.”

Bitty had his hands shoved into his pockets, and he nodded. “Yeah. It’s…like logically I know it’s not a big deal. This isn’t professional hockey and no one’s comin’ for my blood. But it gets intense and it…doesn’t feel good to remember a lot of that old stuff.”

“Never does,” Jack said, and he reached out, ruffling Bitty’s hair a bit. He giggled and shoved him away.

“Big brute,” he said, waggling his finger. “Come on, let’s get in so I can get you started on a few things before my next lecture.”

Jack smiled and led the way.

Unfortunately Jack didn’t have much in the way of raw ingredients, so Bitty made him swear to make time Friday for them to shop. “If I can’t make it,” Bitty said, “I’ll text you a list of stuff to pick up. We can work on some stuff on the weekend if you want.”

Jack flushed. “Erm. My boyfriend will be here.”

“Oh.” Bitty flashed him a smile. “Of course, y’all will be wanting some time alone, no worries. I can just…”

“No I don’t think he’d mind,” Jack said quickly. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Bitty laughed as he chopped up the single carrot Jack had in his fridge. “Honey, are you asking if I’d mind being able to say I spent my weekend with two famous NHL players?”

Jack flushed. “Well…” 

Bitty hip-checked him and shook his head. “I’m kidding. I just think anyone who’d be with you this long has got to be pretty great. If I won’t be in the way well, I’d love to meet him.”

Jack felt something warm in his chest at the idea that Kent and Bitty could know each other, could meet and get along and it could be… He didn’t know what. He felt like he was grasping for something, just out of reach. “I’d love to have you,” was all he said, and Bitty grinned.

*** 

The week went by almost too fast. Mornings were spent watching the sunrise, and working with Bitty on his checking. After that they’d get a coffee and part ways, sometimes off to lectures, sometimes off to Jack’s. On days Bitty had lectures and Jack had his online work, they’d text.

Jack filled Kent in on as much as he could, and was vaguely surprised at Kent’s excitement to meet Bitty. “I just…didn’t know if you’d be alright having someone hang around.”

Kent laughed. “Babes, you like him, and he sounds pretty great. Frankly I’ve been a little worried about you. I trust you, but you and I both know that on your own…”

“I know,” Jack said with a sigh, hating how right his boyfriend was. “But I’m actually doing well. Bitty is nice, but I think I’d be alright without him.”

“You would,” Kent said softly. “But I hate the thought of you being lonely.”

Jack softened. “I love you.”

Kent laughed. “Me too, babes. Anyway I’ll be there Friday, alright? I’ll head up right after practise.”

Jack touched the side of the computer screen. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

Jack met with Bitty late Thursday afternoon for shopping. They were using Jack’s car to avoid having to shop at murder Shop’n’Stop, and they found a gourmet supermarket when Jack reminded Bitty, “I’m a millionaire. I don’t exactly have a food budget.”

“Lord have mercy this is…” Bitty stared at him as Jack grabbed the trolley. “Well I’ve never had a rich friend.”

Jack blushed and ducked his head. “I’m pretty normal, you know.”

Bitty laughed an hip-checked Jack as they turned to head for the produce. “I know. I’m chirping you. I enjoy being friends with you, Jack. It’s nice.”

Jack couldn’t help his smile as Bitty began to fill small bags with fruit and veg. Jack had plenty of friends, but nearly all of them had been because he was Jack Zimmermann. Because he was a hockey player, because his dad was Bad Bob. Bitty had been the first person who extended his friendship without some sort of motive or preconceived notion of who Jack was.

And it was something Jack wasn’t sure he ever wanted to live without.

He liked Bitty. Different than he liked anyone else in his life. Bitty made him feel warm and safe. He craved Bitty’s company almost as much as he craved Kent’s.

His head started to reach for something, a thought that had been just outside his grasp for so long. He looked up at Bitty who was weighing oranges, and when Bitty smiled, it hit him.

Oh god.

God.

*** 

The rest of the night was…awkward, to say the least. Jack suddenly realised maybe he’d been flirting this entire time. Though Bitty knew Jack was in a relationship, and Bitty was even looking forward to meeting Kent, so maybe Jack wasn’t obvious.

But Jack had never been good with things like feelings. He’d been with Kent so damn long he didn’t exactly know how to function around someone else, and he’d never…he’d never really been interested in other people before.

The conversation over tea that night was a bit tense, and Bitty noticed. “Is there something on your mind, hun?”

Jack’s eyes snapped up, and he tried not to get the whooshing feeling in his gut when Bitty cocked his head to the side. “Erm. No,” he lied. And continued to lie, “I think I’m just…feeling a little under the weather? Or it might be my meds playing up. Sorry.”

Bitty came over with a slight frown, and pressed the inside of his wrist to Jack’s forehead. “Not warm, but it’s the season. Have you had your flu vaccine? You know, right after my surgery,” Bitty brushed his hand down the front of his torso, “some virus hit the hospital and before I was discharged I caught it. My immune system was fucked, so I ended up fighting pneumonia along with recovery. I don’t want you over-working yourself.”

Jack offered a smile, ignoring the echo of a burn where Bitty had touched him. “No it’s…I don’t think I’m sick. Just…feeling a little off. I’ll be better by tomorrow. Kent will be here.”

Bitty smiled brightly. “You know I can’t wait. He followed me on twitter the other day.”

Jack blinked. “Oh?”

Bitty laughed. “I wasn’t sure what to expect. But y’all have the cutest cat.”

Jack scowled. “That little beast is all his.”

“She’s a sweet princess,” Bitty said, pulling out his phone and pulling up Kent’s twitter feed.

Jack rolled his eyes, but he felt a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. “You two will get along a little too well, I think.”

Bitty laughed and gave Jack’s arm a pat. “Don’t worry, we won’t gang up on you too much.” He winked, sending Jack into borderline cardiac arrest. “Anyway I should go. Need to study and get a few things done. When did you want me to come over?”

“Erm. Can I…text you?” Jack asked. “Not sure what Kent has planned.”

“Yeah, you got it. We actually got a pre-season skirmish Friday night if y’all want to come by. I might even get ice time. See if those checking practises had any effect.”

Jack wanted to say no, but he felt like he owed it to Bitty to at least be there for him, even if it meant him being recognised. “Of course I’ll be there. I mean, if Kent doesn’t have any plans.”

Bitty brightened, then tugged Jack in for a hug. “Well you go rest up, okay? And I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jack showed him to the door, and when Bitty was gone, Jack pushed his head against it and sighed. It was all becoming a bit much, and he knew at this point he couldn’t keep it from Kent. There had been a handful of times Kent had small crushes through the years, and a few times Jack had given Kent to sleep with people. It was never an issue, but it had never been Jack, either, and he knew out of the both of them, Kent was more of the jealous type.

The last thing Jack wanted was to lose his friendship with Bitty, but if Kent asked it to end, Jack would end it. It was only fair. He owed Kent that much at least.

Going into the bedroom, he saw a text on his phone and picked it up. **Hey babes, I’m out late with the boys. We miss you. Okay if we skip Skype?**

Jack felt vaguely relieved. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have over the computer, but it was also one he didn’t think he could keep inside any longer. He quickly responded, _That’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, right?_

**You know it. I can’t wait. Love you.**

_Love you too. Early night, be safe. Hi to everyone for me._

Jack set his phone down, then climbed into his bed with the knowledge that tomorrow would be everything. Or it very well might leave him with nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings for this chapter. Discussions of polyamory.
> 
> I should note here that all polyamorous relationships are different, and the one basic rule is communication--which is what I'm trying to emphasise. I'm basing this a little bit off how my relationships ended up forming--which is not speaking for every polyamorous relationship. But hopefully some people are able to relate :)

Jack was a mess by the time he got home. He’d gotten a handful of texts from Kent, one telling him he was there already, the rest chirping him for all the proper food and his place looking a bit of a mess.

**You’d think actual people live here.**

**Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?**

Logically Jack knew Kent was chirping. There was no malice, no suspicion behind the texts. Logically Jack knew even if Kent knew about the crush, he wouldn’t take issue with it. But with Jack’s anxiety, logic rarely came into play, at least not until he’d worked himself up, then wound himself back down. And usually he needed an anchor. The problem was, Kent was usually that anchor, and having to adjust his normal coping skills was taking a toll on him.

It meant when he walked in the door, he was stiff and formal and…weird. Kent moved to kiss him, and Jack took it on the cheek. Now, it wasn’t that Kent was unused to that—sometimes physical affection was too much for Jack, and Kent had long-since learnt to read the signals. But there was obviously something about his expression because Kent put a hand on his chest and quirked a brow when Jack all-but jumped at the contact.

“C'est quoi ton problème?”

Jack swallowed. “Ce qui?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Zimms,” Kent said, taking a step back. “Tell me what’s going on?”

Jack dragged his hand down his face. “I…” He took a breath and tried switching to French as though it might make it easier. “J’ai une petite…” He stopped and breathed out and growled in the back of his throat with frustration.

“Okay now you can’t speak in either language,” Kent said. He pulled a barstool out, then kicked one out for Jack. “Assieds toi.”

Jack gave him a flat, dry look, but sat down anyway and folded his arms. “Like I’m five?”

“Well when you’re acting like it,” Kent snapped, but then saw the look of distress in Jack’s eyes and immediately softened. “You’re struggling. Can’t get the words out.”

Jack breathed, the nodded.

Kent reached over and put his palm up, an invitation to hold hands, and after a second, Jack took it. Kent’s thumb moved gently along the side of Jack’s palm, soothing and grounding. “Okay let’s start with the why. Why are you struggling.”

Jack licked his lips. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Okay,” Kent said, not sounding upset. “That’s fine. And you know I’m a big boy, I can take it. Are you breaking up with me?”

Jack’s eyes went wide. “Crisse, Kenny. No, of course not.”

Kent chuckled a little and squeezed. “Okay. Short of you leaving me, babes, I can’t really see a situation we can’t talk ourselves through. So if that helps, just say it.”

Jack swallowed against the lump in his throat, then said, “I have feelings for Eric.”

Kent stared, then said, “Alright. I’m really happy you felt comfortable telling me.”

Jack lifted a brow at him. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

Kent laughed quietly and shrugged. “It seemed kind of rude to tell you that. But yeah, babes. I knew. You…get a look in your eye when you’re really into someone.”

Jack huffed. “I’ve only ever liked you, Kent.”

“I know,” was the soft reply. Jack tried to pull away at that, but Kent held on for a second. “I’m not upset, if that’s why you want to let go. It’s just, I know you. Better than I think anyone else in the world, and your feelings for Bitty are pretty obvious.”

Jack did pull away, and this time Kent let him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because it was yours to say,” Kent replied with a shrug. “I know I’m a fucking asshole, but I care about you and I’m not going to put words in your mouth. You were working it out. You know I’m not going to lead you around.”

Jack put his elbows on the table and dropped his face into his hands. “Fuck.”

“Babes…” Kent shifted his stool closer and put his hand at the small of Jack’s back. “Look, I’m not…I’m not upset. I don’t know him yet, but we’ve talked on twitter and shit and he seems nice. Good for you.”

Jack dropped his hands a fraction, his eyes wide, swimming with hurt. “But I like him.”

“So?” Kent challenged. “You still like me, right?”

Jack shrugged. “Well. Yes, of course.”

“So I don’t see the problem. I trust you to tell me what you want—what you need. I trust you to communicate with me if you feel like things are changing.”

Jack leant forward, letting his head fall until it met Kent’s forehead, and he sighed. “Who are you and what have you done with my shithead boyfriend?”

“Oh he’s still here. You’re just the lucky one who gets to see my softer side.”

“Dick,” Jack muttered.

Kent laughed and kissed him. “Look,” he said after pulling away, “if you want to explore things with Eric…I’m…I’d be alright with that. You know me. Shit, I’ve had flings with other people in the past and it was no big deal, right?”

Jack swallowed thickly again, then nodded. “It…feels different than that.”

“That’s because you’re not me,” Kent said. “But I’m a generous guy. And frankly thanks to this epic shithole of a situation, our entire world changed. I can’t be with you half the season, I’ll be on fuckin’ roadies alone, and you’ll be here. And I’m not going to sit here and say that there’s a part of me who doesn’t want you to fall in love with someone else, but there’s a bigger part of me that wants you to be happy and if that means Eric Bittle…then I’m alright with it.”

“That might be…a bit much for me,” Jack said through a sigh.

“So then it’s a bit much and you need to decide whether or not you can still be friends with him,” Kent said simply. “But just know the offer is on the table.”

Jack shook his head, smiling. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Most people don’t,” Kent said solemnly, and Jack smacked him upside the head.

*** 

It was no surprise after that when Kent said he was excited to see the game. He spent so long getting ready, Jack began to pace, somewhat annoyed at his boyfriend. “It’s just a pre-game. You can just go in sweats.”

Kent looked up at him, scandalised. “Sweats. Jack…seriously.” He finally selected a shirt—Jack refused to look at the label because he knew it would only irritate him that Kent was probably wearing a thousand dollar shirt to a college Hockey game—and began to button it.

When he was finally done, Jack grabbed his watch, carefully clasping it on his wrist, and finished up by kissing him slow, hands cupping his cheeks. Kent hummed against his mouth, pressing the front of his body to Jack’s. “It is incredibly unfair,” Kent mumbled, “that you get me all worked up before we leave.”

Jack laughed, then grabbed one of Kent’s Falconer’s snapbacks, and eased it onto his head. “You look gorgeous.”

Kent’s cheeks went a little pink, and he let his fingers tangle with Jack’s as they headed out the door. It was chilly out, but not bad enough to make Jack’s leg ache too much as they went for the street, and Jack steered them away from Kent’s obscene Bentley.

“We’re going to be on campus. Don’t you think that might be a bad idea?” Jack pushed the button to unlock his car.

“Yours is like twenty grand less expensive than mine,” Kent grumbled as he climbed in.

Jack laughed. “Yes, but it doesn’t look it. I don’t think our insurance is over you parking it on the strip last year when we went to Vegas. I’m not sure they’ll forgive you for parking it on a University campus.”

Kent pulled a face, but didn’t complain as Jack made the short drive to Faber. They used his pass to get into the parking garage, and before long they were heading with the small crowd—larger than Jack expected it to be.

“Not a bad turnout,” Kent said with a low whistle. “Think we’ll get recognised?”

Just then Jack heard a gasp and a mumbled mash up of both their names. “I would say yes,” he said from behind a sigh.

Luckily, Kent loved this. He ate it up, being recognised, taking selfies, tweeting his meet-ups with fans. He took four with the group of Hockey fans wearing Samwell shirts, then tweeted about his excitement to check out Jack’s University and show some support.

Within ten minutes they were found by a man wearing a badge who said, “We’ve got seats right up front. VIP.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but Kent grinned and winked and led the way like a damn peacock which Jack both loved and hated. They took their seats though, next to what he assumed were the University president or at least someone like it—Jack wasn’t sure as he let his dad and his people handle his enrolment.

But no one bothered them aside from offering a couple of beers which Kent immediately took up. When they were settled, he elbowed Jack who was feeling decidedly nervous. “What’s up?”

“Just…I hope he does okay,” Jack said. He hadn’t told Kent about Eric—about his gender, about his experience at high school. It wasn’t his place without permission, and there was a part of him hoping that Bitty and Kent would get along well enough that Bitty would feel comfortable doing it himself. Still, Kent knew Bitty had problems, and he nodded at Jack’s confession. “He was doing really well, but that was just against me and against his team. This is…new.”

“I bet once he sees you here to support him, he’ll be great,” Kent said.

Just then, the Samwell team entered the ice. They did their cursory lap to the screams of the crowd, and Jack saw Bitty falter a little when his eyes caught theirs. Jack gave a little wave, and Kent jumped up, cupping his hands round his mouth screaming, “FUCK YEAH NUMBER FIFTEEN!”

The Samwell team all stared, and when it became clear who was there, they stared at Bitty with wide eyes. The two D-men clapped Bitty on the back, and a few of them were cracking up. Jack shook his head and yanked Kent back down to his seat.

“Now you’re going to make him self-conscious.”

Kent laughed. “I won’t. Look at him.” He nodded his head toward Bitty who actually looked…determined, almost. Jack felt a rush of affection toward him, and tried not to think about it. They’d be hanging out with Bitty later. Jack would have the weekend with Kent. Then the season was going to start and it would be up to Jack to figure this out on his own.

It was a lot. It was almost too much. But for now, he set it aside so he could enjoy the game.

*** 

In the end, Samwell won. Bitty scored the winning goal, making it 2-1 and Kent was all but thrumming with excitement as they headed down toward the locker rooms. “Shit man, that was…did you see that. He didn’t get checked, didn’t panic, and scored. Fuck Jack, I know you want to do this history thing but if you ever wanted to go into coaching…”

Jack hummed, having been told this more than once, but it wasn’t something he was prepared to think about just yet. It was enough helping Bitty, but the idea of being so close to the game, but cut off from it…he wasn’t ready.

Kent slipped their hands together as they approached the locker room. There was excited chirping going on behind the doors, and Kent didn’t even pause as he kicked it open and strolled in.

“Well fucking done!”

The room went quiet.

Then a voice. “Holy shit, that’s Kent Parson.”

“In the flesh,” Kent said to the tall blonde wearing glasses. They were all mostly dressed now, though Bitty was nowhere to be found, but Kent didn’t take notice as he went round and was given introductions.

“You beautiful mother fucker,” came a voice to Jack’s right, and he turned to see Shitty there. “I didn’t think he’d be able to get on the ice, then that little shit scores us the winning goal. I owe you about a hundred fucking edible arrangements. Are you allergic to melons?”

Jack chuckled and shook his head. “It’s alright, you know. He’s my friend, I was happy to help.”

“Yeah but man…man, did you see that!” Shitty went a bit starry-eyed. “You have to come over. We’re having a party at the Haus.”

“What is the Haus?” Kent asked, sliding up to Jack’s side.

Shitty looked a bit starry again, then cleared his throat. “Our haus. Hockey team lives there.”

“It’s fucking trash,” Johnson—the goalie—called.

“Fuck you, that’s blasphemy!” Ransom said. “Fined!”

Johnson flipped him off as he continued to get dressed, and Shitty shook his head at them. “It’s better now that Bitty comes round to make pies.”

Jack laughed at that. “Of course he does.”

“Don’t you be chirpin’ my pies now,” came Bitty’s voice from the doorway. He was showered and dressed, and a bit pink in the cheeks. “Sorry, the coaches wanted to see me for a second. Nothing bad,” he added when Jack looked concerned.

Jack opened his arms as Bitty walked over, and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you,” he muttered.

Bitty was hot with his flush, and his eyes were bright when he pulled back. “Thanks. Um. You helped like…so much.”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, then turned to Kent who was all-but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Oh. Bitty, this is Kent Parson. But I think you two have met…sort of?”

Bitty laughed when he was dragged into another hug. “We might have had a few chirps back and forth on twitter.”

“And you shared your hot toddy recipe,” Kent said, elbowing him.

Bitty grinned widely, and Jack felt another rush of…something. Seeing them together was… But no, he didn’t want to think about that now. “I suppose rum does make up for it.”

Kent laughed, then threw his arm round Bitty and hitched him close, turning to the other guys who were all watching curiously. “Bitty, you’re obviously coming with us. Party right? After this?”

“Uh, yeah,” Holster said, adjusting his glasses. “Are you guys seriously coming that?”

Kent shrugged. “Why not? I mean, unless it would be weird or…”

“Bro,” Ransom said, breathing heavy, “Bro.”

Kent laughed. “See you there? Need us to pick up anything.”

“Tub juice,” Shitty said, confusing both Jack and Kent, but they went with it. “We have it covered. Prepare to have your ass kicked at beerpong though. Our team manager is a fucking reigning champ.”

Kent laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

Jack was trying to keep his composure as Kent led the way out of the locker room, a firm hold still on Bitty. When they got into the corridor, he detached, and gave Bitty a slight hip-check toward Jack. “We’re not being obnoxious, are we?”

Bitty blinked, then laughed and touched Kent lightly on the arm. “Oh darlin’ I practically live with those guys, so I know a thing or two about obnoxious. What’s obnoxious is if we stuck around to watch them collectively lose their minds that a couple of NHL players are coming to our little kegster.”

“Former, at least in my case,” Jack said.

Bitty wagged a finger at him. “None of that. Shitty’s got your poster in his room, Mr Zimmermann, so I think it still counts.”

Jack caught Kent’s smirk over Bitty’s head, and he promptly flushed bright red.

*** 

At the haus, Kent and Jack made a little bit of a splash, but Jack started relaxing once the other guys did. There was enough booze going around that people stopped caring it was Kent Parson and Jack Zimmermann, and started egging on Lardo, the team manager, as she—as predicted—firmly kicked Kent’s ass at beerpong. He was busy tweeting loser selfies with her, and Jack decided to wander, eventually finding Bitty in the kitchen who was setting up pies.

“You weren’t kidding about the pies,” Jack said, leaning on the counter.

Bitty whipped round, then laughed, shaking his head. “I wasn’t. These boys…I don’t know how they survived without me. Before I got here it was all hot sauce and take away menus. Really, I like to think Jesus sent me as one of his miracles.”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “Well…I just want to say I really was proud of you. Not just your goal, you know? But your confidence. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Bitty flushed and turned his face away. “Now you got me all embarrassed. But…thanks. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

Jack moved over close to him, nudging him lightly with his hip, making Bitty giggle. “I think you could have. Maybe it would have taken longer, but you had it in you.”

Bitty bit on his lip, but before he could say anything, someone started shouting and he jumped. “Oh I should…you know. Check on that. See you in a bit?” He hurried out before Jack could say anything, and a minute later, Kent wandered in.

He had his pink beer-flush going, and he walked up to Jack, winding his arms round his boyfriend’s waist, and when he started talking, it was all French. “ _I like him. I can see why you have a crush on him. He was cute on twitter, but he’s even cuter now.”_

_“I’m not…I don’t plan to_ ,” Jack stammered. He shook his head. “ _I don’t know what I want._ ”

Kent went up on his toes, touching Jack’s cheek before kissing him slow and soft. When he pulled away, he looked almost sad, but there was a contentment there which set Jack somewhat at ease. “ _Let’s see how the weekend goes, okay? Maybe we can get him to stay over, or we can…go on a date? The three of us._ ”

Jack’s eyes widened. “ _You want to go on a date, the three of us? Kent…_ ”

“Oh now that’s hardly fair,” came Bitty’s voice. “Both of you speak French?”

Kent turned, his grin going wide and sunny. “Didn’t have a choice. When I met this shithead here, he barely spoke English. How else was I supposed to win his heart?” He gave Jack’s ass a light smack, and Bitty blushed.

“Well I wouldn’t know. But I have a language requirement to fulfil one year so maybe Jack can be my tutor.”

Kent laughed, drawing Bitty over to lean on him, a bit drunk and definitely handsy. “Bad idea, Bits. Let me tell you, French teachers do not appreciate the subtle nuances of Quebecois. But luckily our Jacky boy knows decent French too.”

“Quebecois is perfectly decent,” Jack said, his face drawn and angry. “It’s perfectly valid and just because they don’t want to recognise it as a proper language…”

“He’s passionate,” Kent said, interrupting.

Jack stopped and blushed. “It’s just ridiculous.”

Kent laughed and pulled Jack down for a swift peck before turning back to Bitty. “We were talking about you, anyway. Thinking you might want to hang this weekend. We could…who knows, see the zoo or take a drive or whatever. Get some nice, quality time in.”

Bitty looked somewhat intrigued, and also maybe a little alarmed. “Y’all surely don’t want me hanging around. It’s your weekend together. I know you never see each other and…”

Kent smiled, disarming and soft and as charming as he ever was. Jack could see Bitty soften and he knew if he didn’t Bitty over, Kent would. “Don’t be ridiculous, Bits. We can see each other plenty, and have a cute baker along with. Please?” He pouted, and Bitty pinked, then rolled his eyes.

“Lord, how do you ever tell him no?” he asked Jack.

Jack chuckled in spite of his swirling emotions. “I don’t, very often,” he admitted. “But…he’s right. It would be nice to have you there.”

Kent shot him a triumphant smile, and Bitty finally caved. “Alright, fine. What time do you want me over? I can come early and bake muffins.”

Kent dragged Bitty into another hug. “God Jack. Muffins. Can we keep him?”

Jack felt his heart swell, with want and fear and anxiety…and hope. And he found himself smiling, and found himself saying very quietly, “I wouldn’t mind it if we did.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realised I've no idea how long this is going to be. I updated as quickly as I could today because the next might be a few days--Just got my book back from my editor and my deadline for print is on the 26th so I'll be spending a few days working and screaming into the void (I'll distract myself with short ficlets on tumblr, I'm sure). But as soon as I get it sorted I'll put the next chapter up. Thanks for the comments so far, they are EVERYTHING. Also the French I used in here mostly came from this Quebecois slang/phrases website so if I've got anything wrong please let me know. Thank you! x
> 
> Warnings for this chapter, mentions of Anxiety.

Jack used a dry flannel from the edge of the sink to wipe away steam from the mirror. He left the corner, where Kent had drawn a small heart, which began to fade slowly as Jack cracked the door to let the steam out. It was early morning still, and Kent was sleeping, his mouth slightly open, breathing heavy and even.

Jack tried to have a lie-in with him, but his body was thrumming with anxiety and he knew there was no chance of keeping still. A run was out of the question, so he went into the second bedroom to work with his free weights until his arms burned. He did a little bit of ab work, then jumped in the shower to attempt to clear his thoughts.

The night had gone well enough, the party fun, and the idea that Kent and Jack were from the NHL quickly wore off as the alcohol flowed and Kent’s easy personality shone. Bitty and Jack spent most of the evening together as Kent continued to chat-up the entire haus, winning them over with his easy grins and ability to not only fail spectacularly at drinking games, but admit his defeat all over his twitter.

By the time he and Jack left, they had numbers, coffee invites, several of Bitty’s mini-pies, and a standing invitation to any of the haus parties for the duration of Jack’s university studies.

Neither of them were very drunk, but definitely too buzzed for driving, so they made the walk, Jack leaning on Kent as his knee was starting to ache. They stumbled through the door, both giggling, and made it to the bedroom where they stripped down and huddled under the blankets.

Kent laid his head on Jack’s chest, his thin fingers tracing lines through the coarse, thick black hair on Jack’s stomach. “You think that’s what it woulda been like if we went to college instead of Hockey?”

Jack threaded his fingers into Kent’s hair, holding him close. “J’chais pas.”

Humming, Kent turned his head into Jack’s torso and kissed gently. Jack kept his grip tight, his hand pushing against the back of Kent’s head. His anxiety over Bitty was making him feel clingy, and right now he wanted Kent as close as he could get him. He urged him up, their lips meeting, open-mouthed and wet and careful.

Kent pushed up on his arm, cupping Jack’s cheek as the kiss went deeper, and Jack let out a small moan as Kent pushed himself up and over, straddling Jack.

“Are you thinking of Bitty?” Kent asked suddenly, grinding his hips down. “It’s okay if you are.”

Jack shook his head. “Non,” he answered honestly. “Toi, juste toi.”

Kent groaned, then kissed him again. They pushed together, a gentle slide as Kent wrapped his hand round them both. Jack’s hips stuttered, his hands clutching at Kent’s back, their lips never parting as they shuddered their climax against each other.

Kent was always more boneless after an orgasm, so Jack carefully eased himself up, grabbing a flannel, ignoring the sting of the cold faucet water as he cleaned them up. But he felt sated—better than he had earlier—closer to Kent again. He smiled when Kent’s small nose pushed against the back of his neck, as Kent tucked Jack’s back against his front and held him, safe and content just like this. Like it had always been between them.

Bitty was still at the back of his mind. The wonder, the fear, the vague thrumming desire to see if it could go further and if it could actually work the way Kent thought it might. But for just then, Jack wanted to sleep.

Now, in the bathroom, he let his thoughts wander. He realised it was more than just a question of him wanting Bitty, of him wanting it to work out. It was also whether or not Bitty would want him. Kent well, that was easy. Kent’s charm and easy going attitude—it was impossible not to love him most days. Even when he was being a self-centred prick there was still something there that drew the eye.

Jack never questioned why he loved Kent. It just seemed obvious.

But he wasn’t like that. After all their years together, Kent’s personality had never really rubbed off on Jack. He never developed the ability to just…enjoy people. His anxiety kept so much at bay, like he was watching from behind a glass wall. He understood the hows when it came to being social, but he could never quite get it right.

And who would want that.

Jack had spent years of his life collectively, wondering why Kent stayed this long, what Kent saw in him.

He sighed, drawing a hand down his front and tried not to grimace at the sight of his body going softer. He tried not to think of himself as a pre-teen trying to get his body into shape, trying to look like a Hockey player, like he deserved to be Bad Bob’s son.

His mind flickered back to Kent in his room, ripping down his Be Better poster and chucking it into the fire, then kissing him, kissing him, kissing him.

Jack closed his eyes, gripping the sink, then reached into his medicine cabinet for his pills. He popped his daily dose, slid it back, then moved to the bedroom to dress. Bitty would be there soon. There was a text on his phone which just read, **See y’all in a few. Hope you’re hungry** with a series of happy little smiley faces.

Jack’s heart swelled in his chest, and he tried to understand the nature of how profoundly different he felt toward Bitty than he did toward Kent. It wasn’t more, it wasn’t less. It was just…different.

By the time Jack dressed and Bitty was tapping lightly at the door, Kent still hadn’t roused, so Jack shut the bedroom door and went to let Bitty in. The younger man was dressed in tight jeans, a loose hoodie, his hair tucked inside a slouchy beanie which framed his face. His cheeks were pink from the morning cold, and Jack felt his stomach twist with affection.

“Not too hung over?” Bitty asked.

Jack laughed. “When you have to keep up with the team in the off season, you develop a tolerance.”

Bitty shook his head. “Trust me, y’all don’t know alcohol until you’ve had one too many cups of tub juice. It’s…green. When it’s green you know it’s dangerous.” Bitty winked, sending Jack’s heart into overdrive, and he hip-checked Jack as he moved past toward the kitchen.

By the time Jack followed, he had composed himself—mostly—and leant on the counter to watch Bitty prep the ingredients for muffins. “Luckily these don’t take long, and I modified it last night for y’alls diet. Little extra fibre and everything.”

The muffins have oats in them, and dark chocolate chips, along with what looks like dried fruit. “Trust me, you won’t be able to believe these are healthy.” He winked again, and Jack was certain this time, Bitty noticed his blush because he said, “So how long have you and Kent been together.”

Jack took a pause to get juice out of the fridge, realising that as much as he liked Bitty, he had no idea how to even bring up something like Kent was suggesting. Crisse, he was in so far over his head. “Euh…a long time. Since the Q. He didn’t speak French, and my English was pretty bad, so we helped each other. And the other boys were kind of dicks.”

Bitty let out a startled laugh. “Yeah?”

Jack shrugged. “People tended to put a lot of expectation on me, because of who my dad is. If I wasn’t better than them it was…sort of a scandal. Kent was the only one who didn’t care my dad was Bad Bob Zimmermann.”

Bitty cocked his head to the side, smiling a little. “How terrible of a hockey player will you think I am if I tell you I had to google your dad?”

Jack laughed. “You had to google me, Bittle,” he chirped. “So pretty terrible.”

Bitty scowled, waving his spatula at Jack. “I am making you muffins, mister. You’d better be nice if you want to spend the rest of the year eating decent food that doesn’t come out of a box.”

Jack laughed. “Sorry. Really no, it’s fine. It’s refreshing. Your friends, they’re all really nice but you saw what it was like. It’s…I know people get over it, they do, and they stop seeing my career stats and start seeing me but…there’s still moments when it feels like they remember, then there’s this expectation for me to be Zimms instead of Jack.”

Bitty let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “I get it. I mean, it ain’t the same, I know that. But growin’ up the way I did…” He trailed off. “Kinda nice being in a place where people don’t know. Or even if they do, they weren’t there for all of it so it’s not the first thing they think of.”

Jack couldn’t help it. He reached across the table and tangled his fingers with Bitty’s. He didn’t say anything, but Bitty looked up and their gazes locked, and no one moved until a voice said from the doorway, “God, I feel like shit.”

Bitty jumped, wrenching his hand away, flushing hard as Kent stumbled into the kitchen. He was in boxers and nothing else, his hair sticking up all over, cheeks pink. He leant against Jack, kissing him on the cheek as he muttered, “Chu magané en osti.”

Bitty, still pink in the cheeks, turned. “What was that, now?”

“He’s hungover,” Jack supplied, patting Kent on the head.

Kent turned bleary eyes at Bitty and tried for a smile. “Fucking hungover, to be precise.” He straightened, then came round and tugged Bitty into a hug. “You tell that Shitty friend of yours that tub juice is fucking brutal. I wasn’t even that drunk.”

Bitty laughed as he gave Kent’s bare back a pat. “We all suffer, darlin’. Especially at the hands of Shitty. But if you get yourself comfortable, muffins will be done in about twenty.”

Kent, bleary and unthinking, pressed a kiss to Bitty’s cheek. “You’re a dream, Bits. I’m going to try and piss some of this poison out and maybe get dressed. Can one of you make me coffee?”

“S-sure,” Bitty stammered.

Kent gave Bitty’s cheek a fond pat, “Thanks, babes.” He shuffled off, and Bitty turned worried eyes to Jack.

Jack, however, felt nothing more than affection. A sort of intense desire to see this all the time, to have them both. God, it felt so selfish, but he couldn’t help it. It had never felt this right before, this easy.

“Um,” Bitty said.

Jack waved his hand as he rose to start the coffee maker. “Don’t mind him. I mean if it bothers you, tell him and he’ll stop. He just occasionally forgets about boundaries.”

Bitty let out a laugh slightly less tense than before. “No it’s alright, I don’t mind. Just don’t want anyone to get uncomfortable.”

Jack turned once he pushed the button on the coffee maker, then dropped his hand to Bitty’s shoulder. “Neither of us are uncomfortable,” he said in a low voice. “I swear. But if you are…”

“No,” Bitty said, more forcefully than he clearly meant to, because he blushed hard. “I mean, I like you both.”

Jack beamed, then hip-checked Bitty lightly, making him giggle. “Good.”

*** 

Kent returned twenty minutes later having showered, dressed, and shoved a snapback over his wet hair. He looked vaguely more human, and even a little apologetic, but Jack attempted to tell him through expression that it was fine. Kent relaxed after that, sliding into the seat next to Bitty as the muffins were cooling on a plate.

Bitty had chopped up some fresh fruit and was just dusting it with cinnamon when he turned and grinned at Kent. “Human again?”

“Debatable,” Kent said with a shrug, but he winked and grabbed at the bowl, pulling back when Bitty thwacked him on the knuckles with the spoon.

“Manners, my god where were you raised?” Bitty admonished.

Kent stole a strawberry slice anyway and smiled around it. “New York.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Lord, that explains everything.”

Jack laughed as Kent looked affronted and demanded, “And what the hell does that mean?”

Bitty began to dish out muffins and fruit on plates, and pushed them over along with the carafe of coffee. “It means y’all northerners have no manners. Lord, when I moved here, I was so out of my element. I was in line at the super market my first week here and said my friendly hello to the woman in front of me and she just smirked and said, ‘You’re not from around here, are you.’”

Kent threw his head back and laughed. “Oh god, I wish I could have been there. That’s great.”

“Shut up,” Bitty muttered. “Can’t be much better with a Canadian, can it?”

“Well Jack’s a special case,” Kent said, winking over Bitty’s head.

Jack rolled his eyes and said nothing as he dug into the muffin which was—as Bitty had promised—fucking amazing.

“It was just such a culture shock. In Georgia we might be passive aggressive as hell but we at least know how to make polite small talk when we’re forced to stand in line together. Here you say hi and they act like you’re tryin’ to kill a puppy.”

Kent shook his head, nudging Bitty with his shoulder. “We have our own special brand of affection, Bits. You get used to it.”

Bitty sighed. “I’m trying.”

“Just stick with us,” Kent replied, shoving a bit of melon into his mouth. “We’ll get you assimilated in no time.” He then took a bite of his muffin, and the noise he made was filthy and obscene. “Holy fucking shit, Bits. What…is that. Oh my god.”

Bitty and Jack stared, then both promptly burst into laughter.

*** 

They eventually get out of the house to visit the zoo—which happens to be in Boston. Kent dragged his feet and whined about having to leave until Bitty stood in front of him, hands on his hips and said, “You dragged my sweet little southern behind out of my warm bed for this day, Kent Parson. So you’re taking me out.”

Kent blushed, then tackled Bitty to the sofa and sat on him—lightly—until they decided where to go. The Zoo was Bitty’s top choice, “I haven’t been!” and Kent finally agreed if they could take his car, and if he could drive.

“Is that something I should be worried about?” Bitty asked.

Jack merely bit his lip and told Bitty he’d feel safer in the back.

For his part, Kent drove a little safer than he normally did, and luckily the drive wasn’t too far from Samwell, and they got there just as the gates were opening. Bitty clambered out of the car, almost humming with excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Jack slid up to Kent.

“Fuck he’s cute,” Kent murmured.

Jack swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.” He started forward, Bitty at his elbow going on about his favourite animals—penguins, and how they probably wouldn’t have them, but he’d always loved going to the zoo as a kid.

His excitement rubbed off on both of them a little, Jack smiling at Bitty as Kent grabbed tickets, and they hurried inside. Kent, of course, wanted to immediately stop for cotton candy, and grabbed a cup shaped like a lion. “I’m going to show it to Kit,” he declared.

Jack rolled his eyes, and Bitty smiled. “Y’all have to take me to meet that cat someday. I spent a good hour last night before bed going through that Instagram and she’s an adorable princess.”

Kent beamed. “Isn’t she…?” It launched a forty-minute talk about Kit Purrson and the wonder that was her felineness as they perused the exhibits.

The three of them made it a lazy trip, stopping when they felt like it, grazing past exhibits which had too many people. Kent and Jack were recognised a few times—stopping for autographs and selfies, but it wasn’t as bad in Boston as it might have been in Providence.

“Do you ever get tired of that?” Bitty asked as they sat on a bench near the duck pond. Kent was busy trying to fuck with a water fountain that was shaped like a frog, and they both burst into giggles when it turned on unexpectedly and got him in the face.

Jack sighed, shrugging at Bitty’s question. “Sometimes. There are a few places we can go during the off season where people don’t know us very well. West coast, mostly. Not very big on hockey there.”

Bitty hummed as he leant into Jack slightly. “I could see that. I mean, it’s like…you can go to a hundred starbucks and no one would notice, but it’s such a niche sport that when you get a fan, they know all these weird, intimate details about you and you have to sit there with a person who read on google somewhere you used to pick all the marshmallows out of your Lucky Charms.”

Jack laughed as Kent flopped down. “Well that last one is Kenny. He still does that.”

“Fuck you, Zimms,” Kent said with a laugh, and threw his head down on Bitty’s shoulder. “Je cogne des clou,” he whinged.

Bitty lifted a brow at that. “Y’all are talkin’ French again.”

“Well you should just hurry up and learn it,” Kent said, nudging his knee into Bitty’s. “Not that they’ll teach you Quebecois at Samwell, but you’ll catch on fast enough. I did.”

“And y’all assume I wanna spend that much time with you,” Bitty chirped, winking at Jack who promptly blushed. “I’m knackered though. We should get lunch, yeah? Then head out?”

Kent sat up abruptly, staring at both Jack and Bitty. “We should go home.”

Jack raised a brow, and Bitty said, “Well that’s what I…”

“No like…you want to meet Kit, right? Come spend the night with us. She’s all lonely and shit, and she loves new people.”

“She does not, she’s hateful,” Jack grumbled.

Kent threw his arm round Bitty and hitched him tight. “She’ll love Bits, I can already tell. It’ll be fun. I’ll drive you both back tomorrow after lunch.” He wiggled Bitty in his arms until Bitty laughed. “Come on.”

Bitty dragged a hand down his face. “Uhg. I have studyin’ to do, and I need to be back before four but…”

“You can literally drag me on twitter without repercussion if I don’t get you home by four,” Kent said, putting a hand over his heart.

Jack laughed and rolled his eyes. “Bitty, we don’t have to.”

Bitty bit his lip, then looked between Jack and Kent with a sigh. “You boys are trouble, aren’t you? You’ll be my ruin.”

Kent whooped and dragged Bitty into a one-armed hug. “We’re growing on you.”

“Like mould,” Bitty complained, but he merely laughed when Kent pulled him to his feet, and only managed to catch Jack’s hand as Kent dragged them both away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick couple of things--I'm off hiatus for like two weeks so I'll be finishing this fic up within that time. This will eventually end up Kent/Jack/Bitty, and not Jack/Kent Jack/Bitty. It'll just take a little time for Kent/Bitty to get there.
> 
> Two- would you lot prefer if I updated short chapters with shorter wait time, or longer chapters with a longer wait time? Cos I can make the chapters longer than they are now (they usually top out at about 4k words) but it just means less frequent updates. Either way works for me.
> 
> I'm assuming like 3 or 4 more chapters will probably sort this fic.

Providence isn’t that long of a drive from Boston, but by the time they arrived, Jack was pale and shaking. Bitty was the first to notice, leaning between the seats as he grabbed Jack’s arm. “Oh my god, Jack. Are you okay?”

Kent glanced over, swearing under his breath. “Fuck. Leg?”

Jack nodded, taking a few, slow breaths. “It was fine but I didn’t think about how long we’d been walking.”

Bitty sat back, pressing his hand to his mouth. “I…I didn’t even think. Lord, Jack, this is all my fault.”

“No,” Jack said at the same time as Kent said, “Bits, Jack is a big boy who knows when to speak up. None of us were thinking about it.”

Bitty swallowed, but relaxed just a fraction when Jack turned round in his seat. “It was not your fault. I’ll go inside and take something and probably have a nap. If you don’t mind.”

“What? Of course not, Jack,” Bitty admonished, smacking him lightly on the arm. “Lord, why would I mind?”

Luckily they were a handful of minutes away from their house. It wasn’t as modest as Jack’s apartment in Samwell. It showed off their wealth, two stories with vaulted ceilings and hardwood flooring. The furniture looked like it had come straight from a catalogue, and even with Kent’s light mess, it was far more posh than any house Bitty had ever been in.

But Jack was clearly at home there, which was odd for Bitty, seeing him in a place like this. But he dropped his jacket on the back of a chair, then limped down the hall and through a door. Bitty startled when a soft hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to see Kent’s concerned face.

“He’ll be alright.”

“You look unsure,” Bitty pointed out.

Kent squeezed Bitty’s shoulder for a second with his sigh. “Jack has…a rocky past. You know? With his anxiety and when this happened I was afraid for him. Every time he’s reminded of his limitations, I’m…well fuck, it kind of freaks me out. But I need to trust him.”

“Y’all have been together a while,” Bitty said, an almost question.

Kent laughed through his nose as he motioned for Bitty to follow him into the kitchen. “That’s putting it lightly.” He pointed to a couple of barstools at a wide kitchen island, and Bitty sat as Kent dug through the fridge and pulled out two beers, and a bottle of water. “It’s not just how long we’ve been dating, you know? We’ve been on the same team for a long fucking time. We just never really spent any time apart so I was always there to look after him. Sounds fucking stupid, I know he can take care of himself, but I love him and if we’re being brutally honest, I’m not sure I’d survive anything happening to him.”

Bitty swallowed thickly as he accepted the beer, but said nothing. After a minute, Kent sighed and splayed his hands down flat on the counter. “Give me like two minutes. I’m going to give him water and get his ass in bed. Knowing him he’ll try and fight through the pain med fog to stay up and make sure you’re entertained.”

“I can entertain myself perfectly fine,” Bitty said with a sniff.

Kent laughed. “I don’t doubt it, Bits. Just…two seconds.”

As Kent ambled off, Bitty let out a long, slow breath and took a pull off the beer. This was all…a lot. Not just the trip, but Kent and Jack. Bitty could remember distinctly first setting eyes on Jack. The man was beautiful, there was absolutely no way around that. His eyes were endless, icy blue, his jaw cut from marble. His voice was soft, the lilt of his accent—Lord Bitty could listen to it for hours.

He wouldn’t deny the sudden and visceral disappointment when he learnt who Jack was—because why would a wealthy, gorgeous, ex-NHL star want to date someone like Bitty? And then the disappointment of not only meeting Jack’s boyfriend, but learning that Kent was almost as amazing as Jack.

The pair of them were different, to the point it made him wonder how exactly they managed to get on all these years but…somehow they worked and it was obvious. Bitty could see it in the way they looked at each other. He didn’t quite understand how he fit in all of this. He didn’t quite understand the heart-eyes Jack gave him, and Kent’s casual touching because it seemed more than just friendly.

He was lost in his thoughts by the time Kent came back, and startled only a little when Kent grabbed the stool next to him, clinked their beer together, then took a long gulp of his. “Stubborn bastard. He’ll sleep though. Should wake up around dinner.”

“Y’all want me to cook something?” Bitty asked, feeling a little far off still.

Kent raised a brow, then shook his head. “When Jack’s feeling shitty he loves a good curry and there’s a shop not far if you wanna walk.”

“I could do with stretching my legs,” Bitty admitted. He gulped half the beer down, then rose and stretched his back. “Lord there are days I appreciate not having to wear my binder anymore.”

It was a second before he realised Kent had frozen, and was staring at him. “Binder.”

Bitty blinked. “Jack um…” He started to feel a well of panic because he forgot Jack hadn’t told him. He hadn’t prepared for coming out like this. “Um…he didn’t. Um.”

Kent seemed to see the panic on Bitty’s face, and quickly reached out, though didn’t make contact. “Hey Bits, it’s cool man. He didn’t say but we’re cool, I swear.”

Bitty swallowed. “Sorry it’s just…you never know how people are going to react and…and…”

“You want a hug?” Kent offered.

Bitty felt the conflict again, and yet also the offer of a hug was too good to pass up. Instead of saying anything, he just opened his arms and listened to Kent’s quiet laugh as he was dragged against the broad, firm chest.

“God, you’re fit,” Bitty blurted as he squeezed hard muscle.

Kent threw his head back, bellowing a laugh. “Thanks, Bits. I work really fucking hard on it. You’re not so bad yourself, you know. I watched you on the ice and Jesus. You’re fucking fast.” Kent let go slowly, then nodded his head along for Bitty to follow. He locked up, then they took to the street.

“I used to figure skate,” Bitty said, filling Kent in on all the details Jack had apparently kept to himself.

“That one I knew,” Kent said. “Just didn’t really think anything of it until I saw you out there. Good shit. You’d be decent if you wanted to go pro.”

Bitty swallowed thickly. “Um. I mean it’s never really been my thing. You know? Not like you and Jack. And the NHL barely tolerates gay players. The whole trans thing…”

Kent let out a puff of air and rubbed round his mouth with two fingers and this thumb in frustration. “Fuck, I know. I do, and it’s a pile of shit. I mean that was half of Jack’s fucking anxiety in the Q. Almost fucking killed him.” Kent went silent as they turned the corner, and the curry shop came into view.

Bitty shoved his hands into his pockets. “He erm. He seems better now?” Bitty offered.

Kent laughed quietly. “Yeah, man. I mean, it’s not something that’s ever going to go away but…he’s got a lot of coping skills. Talks to his therapist when he needs to, takes his meds. Let’s me know when things are getting overwhelming. We have a system. It’s been fucked to hell lately because of this fucking knee injury and everything.”

Bitty walked through the door Kent held open, and the conversation stalled as they went to order. Bitty, who wasn’t entirely familiar with the cuisine, let Kent order for them. “We’ll just share it all, tastes better that way,” Kent said as he led Bitty to a table with two Styrofoam cups full of something called lassi.

Bitty took a drink and his eyes widened. “Oh. Lordy this is good.”

Kent laughed round his straw. “Yeah man. Best drink ever.”

Bitty felt a gentle whooshing in his gut at Kent’s eyes, crinkled in the corners, and so friendly. He could sense there was more to Kent than just this, than just loving Jack. Bitty knew Kent’s online reputation—sometimes a dirty player, charismatic, occasionally referred to as the NHL problem child. 

It was an unfamiliar world for Bitty, and it was hard to imagine Jack—the University student and quiet friend he’d gotten to know over the last few weeks—as a part of this celebrity, professional sport world.

“You okay?” Kent asked as he gathered up the bags and they started for the door.

Bitty looked at him. “Hmm? Oh erm. Yeah I’m alright just…thinking.”

“You wanna share with the class?” Kent asked, nudging him a bit.

Bitty laughed. “Maybe when we get back?”

Kent gave him a slightly dubious look, but nodded and didn’t push the issue. Instead he spent time telling Bitty a handful of stories they’d got up to on Roadies. “Wait til you meet Tater,” Kent said as he unlocked the door to the house. “He and I don’t always see eye to eye, but you’ll fucking love him.”

Bitty let out a small laugh. “He sounds pretty great. Willin’ to be the boys are huge fans back at the haus.”

Kent laughed. “Maybe the team and I will come surprise you one party, eh?”

Bitty covered his face as he dropped to the couch. “Oh lord, I’ll be the most popular one in the haus and I don’t even live there yet.”

Kent raised a brow. “You…huh? You don’t?”

“Dorms,” Bitty said from behind a sigh. “Freshman dorms. I’m at the haus enough though. Cooking so those poor boys don’t starve.” He accepted the plate Kent gave him, piled with curry, rice, and a ripped bit of the naan. It smelt amazing, but Bitty’s gut was twisting with wonder and he heard the words falling from his lips before he really understood what he was doing. “What am I doin’ here, Kent?”

The question didn’t seem to startle Kent as much as Bitty thought it might. He looked at Bitty out of the corner of his eye, then he sighed. “We were…Jack and I were going to talk to you but you know…his knee. And fuck…fuck I mean this is unorthodox but…” He scrubbed his face, then leant over his knees toward Bitty. “Bits, do you like Jack. Are you attracted to him? Would you date him?”

Bitty’s face went bright red and he turned his gaze away, realising he had no choice but to be honest, but unable to bring himself to look at the expression on Kent’s face when he admitted it. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… I mean I know I’m not…I mean I’m just a friend and I swear I’d never…”

“He likes you,” Kent said, interrupting Bitty’s flow of words.

Bitty’s gaze snapped over, and took in Kent’s casual pose, the way his arm was draped along the back of the couch. “What?”

Kent shrugged. “He likes you too.” Kent bit down on his bottom lip, then said, “You know what demisexual is?”

Bitty blinked a few times. Of all the follow ups Kent might have asked, Bitty was not expecting that one. “Y-yes,” he stammered.

“Well that’s Jack. Demi-sexual, demi-romantic. For him, it’s only ever been me. He doesn’t…he doesn’t get close to people very often. But we’ve always had a…thing. Open relationship, I guess. I’ve dated other people, slept with other people, it’s never been a big deal. Well…it’s different now. He’s at Samwell and I’m going to be on the road a lot and…he likes you.”

Bitty held up a hand. “Hang on. Are you sayin’… are you…are you suggesting Jack and I maybe date?”

Kent shrugged. “I’m saying that if it’s something the both of you want—something the two of you need to talk about together—I’m fine with it. I like you, Bits. If anyone else was going to date Jack, you bet your cute hockey ass I’d pick you.”

Bitty felt like his heart was about to hammer out of his chest, and his throat felt too dry when he tried to swallow. “Um.”

“Look, Jack wasn’t going to say anything until I did. Because being attracted to someone besides me…it’s new for him. So you might have to do some of the heavy lifting for a while when it comes to communicating with him because it doesn’t come naturally the way it does with me.”

Bitty could do nothing but nod as he processed.

“I don’t mean to dump all this shit on you, okay? I know it’s fucking heavy and I feel like an asshole, but you asked and I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“So this weekend. Was this like…is this like…a date?” Bitty asked.

Kent shrugged. “No. Not yet, anyway. Could be, if you decide you’re interested, but I thought you might want a little more time. And if you say no, please just…fuck just stay his friend, okay? He fucking needs that.”

“I’d never…I wouldn’t,” Bitty said, struggling for the words. “Lord Kent Parson what kind of person do you take me for? I adore Jack to bits. I think both of y’all are great. I’m not…nothin’s gonna mess this up.”

Kent visibly relaxed, his smile softer, gentler. “Thank fuck. It’s just…he cares about you and I’ll I’ve heard since the day at the bookstore was Bittle this and Bittle that. Shit man, I wasn’t even sure what I was going to think and then I met you and you’re fucking adorable.”

Bitty’s face glowed red. “You sure you’re not asking to date me?” he chirped.

Kent gave him a thoughtful look. “I would,” he answered. “It wouldn’t be fair though, not right now. Not with me on the road, trying to figure this whole thing out. It’s…it’s my first season without him here, and I feel like I’m going to be a fucking mess. But I can pull through if I know that Jack has someone. Someone who can love him as much as I do.”

Bitty blinked. “Well I don’t um…I mean I don’t even know if I…”

“It’s more than fucking, Bits,” Kent said. “Friendship is enough for him.”

Bitty bowed his head, then nodded. “I care about him a whole lot. So…at least don’t worry that he hasn’t got anyone. And I’ll…I need to think about it, but I like him. So…it’s not a no.”

Kent put his plate down when Bitty did, then opened his arms a little hesitant, but Bitty climbed into them and the hug carried on—longer than was probably necessary, but it felt good. Kent’s arms were warm and felt protective. He pushed his nose into Bitty’s hair and said quietly, “Thanks Bits.”

Bitty nodded, then pulled away. They went back to their food, talking about everything but Jack, everything but a potential future. It hung there, the elephant in the room, but they were relaxed. When the food was gone, Kent coaxed him into a cuddle and flicked on the TV. Bitty convinced him to put on Food Network which was showing reruns of Cupcake Wars.

“Ah fuck, they tried to talk me into being on this damn show. Sid took it in the end.”

“Crosby?” Bitty asked.

Kent nudged him. “Oh sure. You don’t know Kent Parson or Jack Zimmermann but you know fucking Crosby. God. I’m going to kick that guy’s ass all over the ice and be like, ‘This is for Bits!’ He won’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, but his face will be worth it.”

Bitty pushed his face into Kent to hide his giggles. “Oh my god, you are ridiculous.” When he pulled back, Jack emerged from the room and Bitty tensed. But Jack looked soft, sleepy, and smiled at the pair of them. 

“Walking alright?” Kent asked.

Jack shrugged, and limped a bit until he could fall down at Bitty’s side. He tugged until the afghan reached his middle, then pushed his face into Bitty’s ribcage. The sofa was nowhere near big enough to fit three hockey players, but somehow they made it work with Kent tucked up against the arm, and Jack’s legs hanging off the other side. 

They were warm. They were cosy, and never in his life did Eric Bittle feel more at home, and more content.


	8. Chapter 8

When Jack woke the next morning, he had a slight fog leftover from the meds. His leg had been the worst it had felt since right after his injury, and realising that sent him into a spiral of anxiety, which brought him to the brink of depression. The meds knocked him out, and he recalled at some point stumbling back into the living room and curling up on the couch where Bitty and Kent had been watching tv.

He didn’t give their cuddling positions a second thought, only made room for himself, pulled the blanket over him, and was out again.

Now he was alone there, stretched out, the blanket mostly on the floor. The sun was coming in through the window, and there was the faint smell of breakfast food coming from the kitchen. It wasn’t Kent—his version of breakfast was slightly burnt toast or cold cereal—so Jack assumed it was Bitty.

His heart thudded a little in his chest, and he gave his knee an experimental bend, the pain there, but distant. With a sigh—glad he hadn’t done any real damage, he eased himself to his feet and wandered into the kitchen.

Bitty was at the stove, his back to the doorway, headphones in his ear. He was shaking his hips to whatever beat he was listening to, flipping something in the pan, and Jack had to fight off the very real urge to walk over, put his arms round that small waist, and kiss Bitty’s neck.

Like he would have done if it were Kent.

He let out a breath, sharp and grounding. Kent was right, he was starting to go head over heels for Bitty and he would need to bring it up. He had thought about it the day before, but the knee pain had been unexpected. 

Biting his lip, Jack reached out a hesitant hand, then dropped it onto Bitty’s shoulder. The smaller man startled, but turned and grinned. He looked almost too cute in a pair of Kent’s shorts which were only slightly too big on him, and one of Jack’s old Canadiens hoodies which was threadbare at the cuffs, and pushed up so they didn’t hang over Bitty’s fingers.

He popped one of the earbuds out and grinned. “Mornin’ Jack. You sleep okay?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, then reached past Bitty for the coffee maker which held a fresh pot. “Did we all sleep on the couch?”

Bitty nodded. “Kenny tried to move you, but you were dead weight. He stumbled into the bedroom somewhere round like two—said he had an early work out and needed to get some proper rest. I um…stayed with you. I hope uhh…”

Jack smiled softly, touching Bitty’s shoulder with his free hand. “It’s fine, Bits. I think I slept really nice.”

Bitty’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed. “Okay good.” Turning back to the stove, he flipped the bacon in the pan and pushed it round on the grease. “I know it’s not your healthy stuff, but I thought after all that pain you could do with something nice and filling. I have biscuits in the oven, and some eggs keepin’ warm.”

Jack blinked. “Did you…bake?”

Bitty laughed. “Jack, is that a real question?”

Shaking his head, Jack chuckled to himself and eased up onto the barstool to watch Bitty finish up the food. It was surreal, in a way, seeing Bitty like this. His Samwell apartment wasn’t exactly home yet. He wasn’t sure it ever would be. But this place…this home he’d built with Kent—their lives, their history together. It hadn’t been that long, but long enough he’d put roots down and wasn’t eager to give them up yet.

Having Bitty here though, in this space, felt warm. It felt right. He could look at Bitty and somehow see back all those years as though Bitty had been with them all along. It made his throat feel tight, and he gulped his coffee, trying to distract himself.

“Knee alright?”

Jack blinked out of his thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, actually. Just back to the dull roar.” He flexed his leg out as far as he could, wincing a little.

Bitty’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about it.” When Jack opened his mouth to argue, Bitty held up a hand. “No look, I know you could have said something, but it’s my job too. I know about the knee, and I know that suggesting an entire day walking some place wouldn’t be good for you. I woulda been just as happy here, just lounging. I’ll be better.”

Jack bit his lip, then nodded. “Okay, Bits. Thank you.”

Bitty brightened, then pushed a plate with toast, eggs, bacon, and some sliced melon in front of him. “I’ll do something more brunch for when Kenny gets back. And speakin’ of, you know the haus goes to brunch on Sundays? You should come with next time you’re free.”

Jack smiled. “I might.” He took a bite of the fruit first, the melon just shy of overripe. “Your team is nice.”

Bitty laughed. “They’re something. Shitty’s really great. He was the first one I came out to, made me feel real safe. Ransom and Holster…they’re pretty protective, too. I mean, in their own way. They keep trying to set me up with randos in their classes.” Bitty shook his head, and looked away, not seeing the flash of jealousy in Jack’s eyes. “They mean well, those boys.”

“Well don’t let them pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do,” Jack said. He could hear how the stress thickened his accent, and he cleared his throat. “I mean…”

Bitty laughed. “It’s alright, I can take care of myself. And don’t get your head in a twist, I don’t want to date some frat boy. I want…” He stopped, and Jack could feel his heart thumping hard against his ribs with the look Bitty was giving him. He curled his fingers round the coffee mug and stared. Bitty licked his lips. “Kent said…last night erm…”

Tipping his head forward, Jack sighed. “Oh.” He startled then, looking up sharply when Bitty’s fingers tentatively brushed across his taut knuckles. He felt his hand loosen, fall away from the mug, letting Bitty take it.

“Maybe we can…talk about it?” Bitty gnawed on his lower lip for a second. “I told him I’d need time to think about it, but…but reckon that’s not true. Because when I look at you I think that I’d…like to. Date you, I mean. If um…if he was right.”

“He was right,” Jack blurted.

Bitty’s mouth softened into an easy smile and he let his thumb run over Jack’s fingers. “And look, don’t think I don’t understand priorities. I know Kent comes first and…”

“Wait,” Jack said, breathing out a little sharply. “Wait. That’s not…it’s…” He grit his teeth, frustrated that the words wouldn’t come out as clearly as he wanted them to. He paused, and felt a profound gratitude that Bitty said nothing—didn’t push him, didn’t rush him. “What I want with you, it’s not…going to be in place of Kent. I like you, Bits. What we have…could have…it’s not going to be a placeholder until I graduate and leave.”

Bitty’s cheeks pinked a little, and he nodded. “We have time to figure it out, don’t we?”

Jack laughed, turning his hand so they were pressed palm-to palm, and he squeezed. “We do.”

*** 

When Kent got home, Jack and Bitty were on the sofa, Kit curled up in Bitty’s lap, Jack gently playing with Bitty’s fingers as they watched TV. Kent’s eyes raked over them both, his expression making it obvious he knew—they had talked, they had decided.

“Shower,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom, and headed back.

Bitty looked over at Jack with a troubled expression. “He’s upset.”

“Kent deals with change only slightly better than I do,” Jack replied. “Do you mind if I…”

Bitty reached over and all-but shoved Jack up off the sofa. “Go on. Take your time. Kit and I are perfectly fine here, aren’t we?” He nuzzled the cat who kneaded his thigh and snuggled in.

Jack laughed, rolling his eyes before pushing himself off the sofa. He could hear the shower running, and carefully tried the knob. If Kent really had wanted space, he would have locked it, but it opened easily. The room was already steamy, and Kent was under the spray, the glass doors fogged apart from an old steam drawing on the glass which was the both of their initials inside a large heart.

Jack carefully peeled off his sweats, opened the door, and let himself in. Kent turned, saying nothing, but let Jack crowd him back against the still-cool tiles. “Doesn’t this shower ever get cleaned?”

Kent’s eyes cut to the drawing, and he snorted. “Leave me alone, I like it.”

Jack tipped his head in, kissing Kent gently on the mouth. “I like it too. I also like when you talk to me, so why don’t you tell me why you’re upset. I thought you wanted…”

“I do,” Kent said. “Fuck, Jack. I like Bitty probably more than I should. And I trust him to give you what you need and what you want. But it doesn’t make it easier to know that you’ll be going home with him. That it’s all…” He went quiet, drawing his hands lightly up and down Jack’s sides. “It’s all different. And you know I’m possessive.

Jack chuckled lowly as he pressed kisses along Kent’s jawline. “I know. And it’s changed, but if possible, I love you more.”

“Oh whatever,” Kent said, shoving at his shoulder, but he was smiling. Then he was gasping as Jack sank to his knees, letting his fingers drag through the light, coarse hair on Kent’s thighs.

It only took a moment for Jack to get his mouth fully round Kent. They’d been together long enough, long enough Jack knew exactly what Kent needed, and with fingers in his hair, guiding him, Kent threw his head back hard against the tiles and came.

Jack swiped his hand across his mouth as he stood back up, then grabbed the shampoo from the rack and poured a dollop into his hand. He soaped Kent up first, then himself, and by the time Kent was rinsing, he’d regained speech.

“You just left Bits out there on the couch?”

Jack laughed. “I didn’t just _leave_ him. He muscled me up, told me to go after you.”

Kent sighed as he stepped over to let Jack have access to the spray of water. “He really is pretty great.”

Jack nodded as he rinsed the bubbles from his hair. “You know…if you wanted to date him to…”

“I do,” Kent admitted, flushing. “I do. Shit. I really do but it feels like it would be so unfair, Zimms. I’m going to be gone and how am I supposed to be a decent boyfriend to him like that?”

Jack sighed, drawing Kent close to him. “People do long distance all the time. We have. We are.”

Kent pushed his face against Jack’s shoulder and held on tight. “It’s different, babes. We’ve had years together. I don’t…I don’t want to be that afterthought to him.”

Jack reached behind him, switching the water off, then grabbed two towels off the rack. He wrapped one round his own waist, then used the corner of the other to brush the water drops from Kent’s face before tugging him close and kissing him. “You wouldn’t be,” he said against Kent’s mouth. “But I understand. Maybe give it time.”

“Yeah,” Kent breathed, kissing Jack once more before stepping out of the shower. “I can do that.”

*** 

By the time Jack and Kent were dressed, Bitty had lunch finished and had spread out a sort of picnic set-up in the living room. Kent groaned, flopping down on the soft duvet next to Bitty, pillowing his head on Bitty’s thigh.

“This looks amazing.”

Bitty looked down at him as Jack settled in. “If you think you can lie here and be fed…”

Kent pouted, and Bitty shook his head. “Fine,” he growled, then reached over and grabbed a slice of bread, angrily tearing off a bite with his teeth. “Did you bake this?”

Bitty laughed. “Lord, I’m good but I’m not that good. You’ve got a nice shop right up the street.”

Kent raised a brow. “You fucking went out while we were showering?”

Bitty shrugged. “I liked the walk. It’s nice here. It’s the kind of place I always pictured havin’ a bakery, you know? Near a cosy neighbourhood, getting to know all the locals.” He brushed his fingers through Kent’s still-wet locks, then smiled over at Jack. “Course none of those thoughts included getting to know a couple of NHL stars but…”

“Wait til you meet the rest of the team,” Kent said. “Babe, did you tell Bitty about the opener game?”

“Oh,” Jack said, flushing. “I forgot.”

Kent reached over, kicking at Jack’s thigh before rolling his head up to look at Bitty. “Whadda ya say, Bits? You and Jack drive down. Hell if you want to bring some of the guys, we could all grab drinks after.”

“I think Ransom and Holster might literally die if they had the chance to meet Mashkov,” Bitty said thoughtfully.

“Oh god,” Kent groaned. “Don’t tell him that. Never tell him he has fans.”

Bitty raised a brow at Jack who nodded sagely. “He’ll be insufferable.”

Bitty giggled. “Well…lemme ask the boys, alright? But I don’t think it’ll be a hard sell.”

Kent hugged his thigh. “Text me and let me know how many tickets.” He went quiet and then said, “It’ll be Jack’s first time as a WAG.”

Bitty blinked, so Jack filled him in. “Wives and Girlfriends. Probably needs a new acronym.”

“Husbands and Girlfriends. You want to be a HAG?” Kent asked, earning himself a pinch on the arm from Bitty. “Alright, alright. How about PoPs. Partners of Players.”

Bitty smiled. “I like it. Let’s start a hashtag later.”

“Crisse,” Jack muttered as Bitty and Kent both laughed.

*** 

The drive back to Samwell was sombre. Kent would have to leave early, his morning skate at the crack of dawn, and Monday had Jack and Bitty’s checking practise, then early lectures. Jack told Bitty he was welcome to stay, but he shook his head.

“I gotta get my T-shot done,” he confessed as they pulled up to the dorms. “And the pair of you were really distractin’ so I need to get a little reading done.”

Jack nodded, and got out of the car so he could hug Bitty goodbye. “I had a nice weekend,” Jack murmured near Bitty’s ear. “Can we plan a date soon?”

Bitty flushed, then nodded. “I think I’d like that, Jack. Text me later?”

“I will.” Jack leant down, brushing his lips across Bitty’s cheek.

When he pulled back, Bitty leant over to the open door. “Kent Parson get your cute hockey butt out here and hug me. You’re not getting’ away so easy.”

Jack didn’t miss the blush on Kent’s face as he clambered out of the car, and came round to the kerb with open arms. Bitty was in them instantly, on his toes to brush a kiss across Kent’s cheek. “You stay safe, understand? No risky plays at practise. I want to see you on the ice when we come down.”

Kent rubbed the back of his neck, one arm still round Bitty’s waist. “You got it, Bits. Maybe I’ll get you a hat trick.”

Bitty laughed and squeezed Kent’s arm lightly. “Sounds good. I’ll text you too, okay?”

“Kay.” Kent hugged him once more, then—with reluctance—let go. Bitty waved at them both before disappearing through the door, and Kent turned to Jack. “Shit,” he mumbled.

Jack nodded, saying nothing as they both got into the car and made it back to Jack’s condo. It was unspoken Kent would stay for as long as he could, and was at Jack’s side as the door opened and they stepped in.

The place felt strange—too empty, too quiet with just the pair of them. Bitty had very quickly become a fixture, very quickly become a piece that Jack wasn’t exactly sure how they managed to live without. Their mood was subdued as they fell onto the couch.

Jack left the TV off in favour of curling up with Kent, holding him close.

“Miss him,” Kent said—and it wasn’t a question.

Jack nodded. “I’ll miss you too. I’ve never really second guessed my decision to do this but it’s hard without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe. I swear.”

“Say that again,” Jack murmured.

Kent turned his face up, kissing Jack long and slow, then spoke against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Zimms. For as long as we both shall live.”

“And then?”

“And then we take the underworld by storm.”

Jack laughed and pushed his nose into Kent’s hair. “Sounds good.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Bitty deals with dysphoria/past transphobia and nightmares of past abuse/bullying. Nothing graphic. Additional warnings for anxiety/panic attack.
> 
> Thanks so much for the amazing comments. They are my EVERYTHING. You guys are so amazing I just...I have no words. xx

Jack extended a hand to Bitty who was shaking, tears falling in a slow stream down both, pink-tinged cheeks. Jack’s stomach twisted with guilt as Bitty pulled away, turning toward the wall to compose himself.

“Bits I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t…” Jack wasn’t quite sure what he was apologising for. He wasn’t entirely sure what went wrong this time. He’d followed their rules, hadn’t done anything different, but Bitty had collapsed the second Jack touched him.

“It’s…it isn’t…” Bitty took a shaking breath. “Nothin’ you did, Jack,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Jack scrubbed his face. “You should come over to mine. If you want to skip lectures today…”

“I do, but I really can’t today,” Bitty said, sounding truly regretful.

Jack shook his head, reaching out a hand. “Can I…”

Turning, Bitty saw the hand, and looked a bit more pale, but nodded. Jack hesitated, giving Bitty time to change his mind, but closed his fingers slowly round Bitty’s shoulder. He didn’t squeeze, didn’t increase the pressure, just held it there to remind Bitty that he was here. 

“Come over after. If you want, I mean. We can order out and watch something in TV. Maybe we can skype Kenny?”

Bitty looked hopeful at that, his shoulders relaxing under Jack’s touch. “Could I erm. Could I have a hug?”

Jack laughed, then dragged Bitty in. He kept the hug light, until Bitty squeezed tight, pushing his face in the centre of Jack’s chest. Dragging his fingers through Bitty’s hair, Jack sighed. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Bitty nodded. “Maybe later. I need to get my shit together. The guys are going to be here soon for practise and I don’t wanna look like I just fell apart.”

When Bitty pushed back, Jack swiped at his cheeks with his thumbs. “No one will know. You look a little tired.”

“I am,” Bitty said with a shrug. “I didn’t sleep well last night. But I’ll get through the day. Can you pick me up?”

Jack smiled. “How about I meet you at your dorm around five? We’ll grab something on the way home.” Jack froze, realising how that sounded, the way he’d said home. But Bitty merely smiled again and nodded.

“Perfect.” 

They didn’t skate too far apart, and as they were leaving the ice, Bitty reached for Jack’s hand and they stayed that way until Jack was in his shoes. Bitty told him he was going to stay, collect himself, get through practise and then text him later.

Jack wanted to argue, offer to stay, but Bitty looked determined to get through this on his own, and if Jack understood anything at all, he understood that. He squeezed Bitty’s fingers once more, then left Faber for the outside world.

*** 

He found himself at Annie’s, tapping out a message to Kent. **Call me when you’re out of practise.**

He had a lecture that morning, but he knew he wasn’t going. He hated to be terrible about his classes, but he wouldn’t be able to focus, and he didn’t want to be useless for Bitty later on. He thumbed the rim of his coffee mug and stared at his blank phone screen.

He didn’t notice anything until a thin, tall body slid into the chair across from him. Startled, he looked up at a grinning Shitty.

“Bro, why the long face?”

Jack scrubbed a hand over his eyes and shrugged. “Early morning.” He bit on his lip, then said, “How’d Bitty make it onto the team? He’s fast, and good, but he seems like he’d have been a liability.”

Shitty shrugged. “He was fucking fast, and when he wasn’t distracted or afraid, he can score like no one’s business. Coaches knew they were taking a risk but…” Shitty sat back and shrugged. “You think he’s hopeless?”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What? Crisse, of course not. I think once he works through some of his fear he’ll be one of the more valuable players.”

Shitty’s face softened. “High praise, Mr NHL.”

“Ex NHL,” Jack corrected a little dryly.

Shitty’s cheeks turned a little pink. “I’m chirping, bro. Really I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine,” Jack said, waving his hand dismissively. “I can’t pretend like it doesn’t bother me, but it is what it is.” He studied Shitty for a minute. “Are you going to go pro?”

Shitty blinked, then laughed. “No, man. I’m looking at law school. LSATs coming up and everything.” He shuddered. “I mean, that’s the mother fuckin’ dream, right?”

“Your dream,” Jack corrected with a tiny grin. “I want to teach.”

Shitty raised a brow. “Shit man, when Bitty told us that I thought he was kidding.”

Jack smiled, shaking his head. “No.”

Shitty let out a low whistle, sitting back with his arms behind his head. “Imagine that. Coming into your classroom and your teacher is Jack mother-fuckin’ Zimmermann.”

Jack snorted a laugh. “Luckily most of the kids probably won’t know who I am. Unless I end up teaching in Montreal, but I doubt that.”

“Bad there?” Shitty asked.

Jack laughed louder. “No, but I don’t think I can convince Kent to come with me.”

“Oh yeah. Because you two are…” Shitty waved his hand. “Long time, right?”

Jack nodded. “Since the Q.”

“So you’re basically married,” Shitty said.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yes, but don’t tell him that. He says the word marriage gives him indigestion.”

Shitty laughed, then stood up half-way and gave Jack’s arm a pat. “Fucking beauts. I have to run, but don’t be stranger. Bitty’s probably moving into the haus next year so I better see you around a lot.”

Jack flushed, but nodded and waved as Shitty headed out. He curled his hands round his mug and smiled to himself as he realised that apart from a weird, rocky start, these people might actually become his friends.

Glancing down, he saw his phone was blinking, and swiped the message open. _Hey babes, I’m out with the guys, can it wait a little while?_

**No emergency, but small Bitty problem. It can wait.**

Less than a minute later his phone was ringing and Jack sighed as he picked it up. “Kenny…”

“What happened? Is he okay? Are you?”

“Kenny,” Jack said, a little less patiently. He could hear laughter from the guys in the background and felt a small pang of envy and homesickness. “I said it could wait.”

“Yeah, then you used Bitty and problem in the same sentence,” Kent replied. “What happened.”

“Really rough checking practise. But we need to talk about it when you’re alone. He wants to skype with you later, though.”

“Okay,” Kent said, and Jack could hear the smile in his voice. “Look, gimme an hour, okay? We’re doing a little signing thing and brunch, but it’s almost over.” There was a small pause, then he said, “I fucking love you, Zimms.”

Jack laughed softly. “I love you too. Call me soon.” He rang off, finished his coffee, and headed home to wait for Kent’s call, and Bitty’s day to be over.

*** 

About three sentences into the conversation, Jack started to feel the tingles in his fingers and face, and the buzzing in his ears. When his breath hitched, Kent immediately knew Jack was on the brink. “Babe,” he said, his voice low but strong, “babe, you with me?”

“Ah. Euh. I…”

“Babe, go into the bedroom and get the blanket,” Kent said, the command in his voice easy for Jack to follow.

Jack’s head was fuzzy, and he didn’t quite remember the walk to the bedroom, but muscle memory follows Kent’s orders, and soon enough he’s wrapped up in the blanket and breathing carefully, following Kent’s, which is keeping him from hyperventilating.

After about ten minutes, Jack calmed down, and Kent hummed. “Okay, Zimms?”

Jack swallowed thickly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah. Sorry I…”

“You know the rule,” Kent said softly. “No apologising for panic attacks. You wanna talk about it?”

Jack bit down on his lip in thought, then sighed. “Yes. It’s about Bitty.”

“Did he do something?” Kent asked, caution in his voice.

Jack sighed, then launched into the events of that morning. “…and he said it wasn’t me but Kenny…I don’t know if I can do this. Not…not my myself. I’m no good for anyone and…”

“Jack. Babe.” Kent paused for a moment, and Jack could picture him laying back, pulling his snapback over his face.

“I’m going to fuck this up, Kenny.”

“You’re not. I think what Bitty’s asking you for is an ear, and probably a cuddle, and you and I both know you’re really goddamn good at both of those things. Don’t make this bigger than it is, okay? Don’t assume he’s asking for more than you can give.”

Jack breathed out, a little shaky, and leant his head back against the wall. “I wish you were here, Kenny. I miss you.”

“I fucking miss you, babe. So much. I hate this, but I feel like it’s going to be okay.”

Jack closed his eyes and fought back the urge to just withdraw. He could get a job working for the Falconers. He’d been offered assistant coach positions from teams all over the NHL. Anything that would keep him near Kent.

But there was a small, burning fire in his belly reminding him that wasn’t want he wanted. He wanted to be able to do this, to prove he was more than hockey, and strong enough to live a life outside of it. He swallowed, then tried for a smile Kent couldn’t see. “I think so too.”

“Yeah?” Kent asked with a laugh.

Jack breathed through his nose. “Yeah. When do I get to see you again?”

“Saturday. I’ll come back with you after Friday’s game.”

Jack pressed the phone harder to his ear. “I want some time just us, okay? I want to see where this goes with Bitty but I need…I need you.”

“I’m all yours, babe. Whatever you want,” Kent promised. “Now, go take a nap or something before you have to pick up that little ball of sunshine, okay? Then we can skype and you’ll feel better. I love you.”

Jack smiled. “I love you too.” 

They hung on in silence for a while, until Jack felt himself drifting. Kent could tell, then murmured his goodbye, and the line went quiet. Jack fell against the pillows, and curled his knees to his chest, closed his eyes, and slept.

*** 

Pulling up outside of the Freshman dorms, Jack was grateful he both felt and looked better than he had earlier. Bitty also looked cheerier, curled up in an oversized hoodie, a pack on his shoulder, and a gentle smile on his face.

He slid into the seat and smiled at Jack. “Thanks for offering to have me over. I’m not sure I could take the dorms right now.”

“Bitty, my place is yours, whenever. No matter what, okay?”

Bitty nodded, a tightness to his jaw, but he looked grateful. He didn’t say anything more, so Jack kept quiet, and the pair of them went to pick up the food Jack had ordered, and got back to the condo forty minutes later.

Jack let them in, and Bitty disappeared into the back room as Jack set up the food. He queued up Netflix, and when Bitty appeared in comfy pyjama bottoms, he beckoned him over. “Kenny said you might want a cuddle, and I’m pretty good at those so…?”

Bitty laughed, then plopped himself between Jack’s legs and leant against his chest. It was a nice fit, a little less snug than when Kent did it which was a change, but Jack managed to find a cosy spot for his arms to wind round Bitty’s waist, and gently rested his cheek against the top of Bitty’s head.

“You don’t have to but…if you want to talk about it, I’m here.” 

Bitty shuddered a little, pushing further into Jack’s arms. “I’m…not sure why it happened. It’s been a long time but, I had a nightmare last night. Pretty bad one, about…high school. I got bullied a lot but there was one incident and well…needless to say I got locked in a broom cupboard overnight and even though I was fine, and someone found me in the morning I…” Bitty swallowed so hard it clicked audibly in his throat, and Jack carefully tightened his grip. “They wrote these slurs on my locker in sharpie so even though the janitor scrubbed the they never really came off. Erm. So.” Bitty scrubbed at his face, though he wasn’t crying. “I was feeling really dysphoric. I’m doing better at Hockey and everything but there are days I’m not sure I belong on a men’s team.”

“Bitty I…” Jack licked his lips. “I’m not sure how good at this I am. But hockey is hockey. It…you belong on a men’s team because you’re a man, Bits. You belong there. I ran into Shitty this morning and I know he agrees with me.”

Bitty pushed his face into Jack even harder. “Logically I know that. But it doesn’t…make it go away.”

Jack carefully pushed his fingers through Bitty’s hair and sighed. “I know. And I know there’s nothing I can say. So how about I just hold you and then you tell me what you need.”

Bitty nodded, and said nothing for a good, long time. It was comfortable, and Jack stopped worrying whether or not he was going to fuck up because it seemed like this was helping, like Bitty needed this and Jack could give it, and it was going to be okay. A while later, Bitty finally sat up, then pulled the food closer, and without a word, the pair began to eat.

Jack scrolled through the queue of movies, and Bitty’s eyes widened. “Oh. Princess Bride?”

Jack laughed. “I…yeah okay.”

“What?” Bitty asked with pink cheeks.

Jack shook his head. “Kenny loves that one.”

Bitty brightened. “Is he home? Oh we should skype and watch it together. You think he would?”

Jack chuckled and grabbed his phone, dialling up Kent who picked up after the third ring. “Are you busy?”

“Nope, just lamenting my total and utter isolation with Kit and Adele.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Or you could turn on your skype and watch Princess Bride with us. It’s on Netflix and Bitty asked if you wanted to.”

“Oh my fucking god, yes,” Kent said, then the line went dead. By the time Jack got his laptop out, skype was pinging, and he got the video up. “Hey babes,” Kent said.

Bitty leant over to smile at Kent. “We need to do this when you’re here too,” he insisted.

“Hell yes,” Kent said. “What are you eating?”

“Greek,” Bitty said with a shrug as he nibbled on pita.

After a bit, they got everything set up, a duvet with Bitty and Jack cuddled on the sofa. Kent put Kit on his lap with his own blanket, and the movie began.

*** 

Jack woke with a morning stream of sunlight, and one hand curled round a small waist. It took him a moment for his brain to catch up, then he pushed his pillow up higher under his head, and peered down at Bitty. He was sleeping still, his mouth parted just a little. He had one hand curled into the sheet, the other stuffed under the pillow.

Jack smiled, brushing his fingers through Bitty’s hair, and felt a warm rush when Bitty murmured, and shifted closer.

The night had gone well enough. Bitty was still down, but after the movie they spent a while chatting with Kent before he had to sleep. When the skype call ended, Jack cleared up the food, then held out his hand.

“How about bed, eh?”

Bitty laughed. “Eh. You’re so Canadian, Jack.”

“And you’re so Southern, Bits,” Jack chirped with a wink.

Bitty smacked his arm lightly, but allowed Jack to pull him to the bedroom. They left on their pyjamas, crawling under the covers, and Bitty lay back a little tense, so Jack kept his distance. “D’ you think this is weird. Sleepin’ in bed together without even proper dating first?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever gone by the book with anything regarding romance. And this isn’t…I don’t expect anything, Bits. I just like being close to you. But I can sleep on the couch if you…”

Bitty quieted him by curling a hand into his, squeezing lightly. “No. I want this. This is nice. It’s…I feel like it’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Then I’m happy to give it,” Jack answered honestly. He let Bitty make the first move, shifting tentatively, then curling up in Jack’s arms. 

“You’re still going to wake me up at the crack of dawn for checking practise, aren’t you?” Bitty murmured.

Jack laughed, pushing the sound into Bitty’s hair and breathed him in. “Not if you need a break from it.”

“Can I see how I feel in the morning?”

“Of course,” Jack said.

It didn’t take long before they were both succumbing to the exhaustion of the day the stress had created. And for what it was worth, Jack had slept very well.

Now Bitty’s eyes were opening, just slightly against the foggy dawn, and he groaned, scrubbing his face. “Morning?”

Jack smiled, brushing his hand down Bitty’s cheek. “It is. But I was thinking if you feel like you can use the break…I wouldn’t mind having a lie-in.”

Bitty’s grin was made of pure sunshine as he wriggled closely into Jack’s arms. “Ain’t gonna say no to that.” He pushed his face right up against Jack’s chest and let out a tiny sigh. “Thanks for that, yesterday. I needed it.”

“Bitty I like you,” Jack said quietly, stroking the fine hairs at the nape of Bitty’s neck. “You’re strong, and handsome, and funny. And if I can give you even a little bit back…” He trailed off as Bitty sighed. “Is that okay?”

“More than,” Bitty answered, but it sounded like he was holding something back.

“But?” Jack pressed.

Bitty went a little tense, then pulled back slightly. “But…Jack, I think I have a crush on Kenny.”

Jack stared, then chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not surprised. Not everyone gets Kent’s charm but…he’s pretty gone on you. He just…has a lot to figure out right now. When he’s in a better place, I think it’ll work out.”

Bitty nodded. “I’m fine with him never, you know, wanting that with me. As long as we’re friends.”

Jack shook his head again and cupped Bitty’s cheek. “I don’t think he’d want anything else, Bits. Now come on, let’s get a little more sleep. If we’re going to waste a checking practise, we might as well get a good nap out of it.”

Bitty rolled his eyes, but shifted fully into Jack’s arms and let out a contented sigh. “Ain’t napping, Jack Zimmermann. It’s sleepin’ in. Don’t worry though, I’ll teach you how to proper student soon enough.”

Jack laughed and snuggled down into the blankets. “Sounds good bud,” he said sleepily. And minutes later, they drifted back off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! So I want to (and probably will) write a sequel to this at some point in the near future. I have a few other ideas I want to get out first, but I loved this universe and definitely want to write a future fic where Jack is a professor, Bitty's a baker, and Kent's still in the NHL. So look for that soon.
> 
> As usual, thank you for all the amazing, wonderful comments and thanks for sticking with me. xx

Jack glanced over at Bitty who was biting down on his thumbnail as they headed down the highway. He glanced in his mirror, at Lardo’s car behind them which held Rans, Holster, Lards, and Shitty. They’d get to the game early, get into their seats, and he was hoping he could sneak back into the locker rooms with Bitty to wish Kent luck before the game.

He was feeling his nerves get the better of him at the moment. His first game really, and he wasn’t sure his anxiety could take it. Bitty looked just as nervous as he did, though, and for the moment, that was distracting.

Jack’s hand drifted over, then hovered in the air near the nape of Bitty’s neck. “Can I…?”

Bitty glanced over, then smiled. “Oh honey, I appreciate you asking but you don’t have to if you wanna touch me. I’ll let you know if I need space.”

Jack offered a smile, then let his fingers come to rest against the back of Bitty’s neck. After a second, he brushed them through the shorn hair, tracing a nonsensical pattern. “You okay?”

Bitty hummed. “Mm. Yeah, just…” He shrugged. “Thinking.” He turned slightly in the seat. “Jack, I…do you want to keep this from everyone?”

Jack blinked. “I…don’t know. We just started dating so I hadn’t given it a lot of thought yet.”

Bitty nodded. “Just…the guys notice I’m with you a lot and they’re…they asked some questions.”

Jack bit his lip, then let out a breath and said, “You can tell anyone you trust. It…I know I’m not in the NHL anymore but I’m still in the public eye and if people know about us…”

“I know,” Bitty said quickly. “And I don’t want to cause you embarrassment, Jack.”

Jack blinked in surprise, tightening his grip. “What? No, Bitty. That’s not…” He shook his head. “Crisse, I don’t care what the public say about me. It’s just, you’re not used to this. When the press get bored they get nosy. They’d find your twitter, school transcripts, old friends. Nothing is sacred and I don’t want you dealing with that level of stress on top of school and everything else.”

He felt Bitty relax under his hand. “Oh. Well…I didn’t think of that.”

Jack chuckled. “I know, bud. But I did. I’ve been doing this my whole life and Kenny and I are used to it, we can handle it. We can come out any time you’re ready, but I don’t think you are yet.”

Bitty shook his head. “Bless your heart, but you’re right. I’m not. I…thanks. Thanks, Jack.”

Reaching down, Jack tangled their fingers together and brought Bitty’s knuckles to his mouth. He pressed small kisses there, feeling Bitty’s skin heat up with a blush, but he didn’t let go. Not until they reached the arena and he guided them through the VIP car park.

Bitty climbed out of the car first, and was dragged into a makeshift celly with his excited teammates. “Bro,” Ransom said. “Broooooo.”

Bitty laughed and shoved them off. “Y’all don’t embarrass me.”

Jack chuckled as he led the way to the back entrance. After dealing with security, they were all handed badges and let in, and Jack walked the familiar pathway toward the friends and family section. To the right was the newly named PoPs, which was where Jack would have insisted on sitting if it had been just him and Bitty.

But it was good enough, and when the others ran off for beer and whatever else, Jack leant into Bitty. “Do you want to sneak back for a second and wish Kent luck?”

Bitty’s eyes lit up. “Oh. I mean…would that you know…cause suspicion or…?”

“People expect me to,” Jack said with a shrug, rising and extending a hand to Bitty. “And I think you and Kenny have been friendly enough on twitter that they won’t question it much. Maybe just no making out.” He winked when Bitty blushed.

The pair walked down the aisle, then toward the players’ entrance, and Jack flashed his badge at the guard who clearly knew who he was, and they were let in. Jack was all nerves. The want, the desire to be back here with his team, getting ready to take the ice, was intense. But Kent deserved this—a well wish, love from him. Whatever else he was feeling, he could deal with it on his own.

His heart was thudding in his throat, but he swallowed it down and for a second, he reached over and gave Bitty’s hand a squeeze. Bitty glanced up, surprise in his expression, but he squeezed back. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured.

That alone was enough to calm Jack, and he reached for the locker room door and pushed it open. He was immediately assaulted by Kent’s get-psyched mix—a blend of current and eighties pop. Jack didn’t recognise the artist, but he was not surprised to see Kent in only his pants, dancing around on one of the benches.

He spun when someone elbowed him, and his face broke out into a massive grin when he set his eyes on Jack. In seconds, Jack was enveloped in an embrace. Kent’s lips were on his cheeks, lips, his neck. Jack breathed him in, the familiar scent of pre-game sweat and uniform and something that had always distinctly been his boyfriend.

He let his hands wander into Kent’s hair a moment, ignoring the whistles and chirps from the rest of the team who didn’t quite seem to know how to take Jack’s presence. He felt a phantom twinge in his knee as he pulled back and glanced at Bitty who was staring, wide-eyed, round the room.

“Bits!” Kent said, and dragged Bitty into a swift hug. “Did you bring the guys?”

Bitty shifted his feet and jammed a hand into his pocket. “Yeah. They’re getting beers and whatever else. We just wanted to come in and wish y’all luck.”

Kent quickly made introductions, pausing when Tater excitedly came over. “I’m hear so much about new baker friend. You make pies?”

Bitty laughed at the look in Tater’s eyes. “Yeah I um. I do, yeah. If y’all tell Kenny or Jack here what you like best, maybe I’ll send a care package.”

That excited everyone, and soon enough Jack had to wish them all good luck before they were chased out. He let Bitty take his hand again, lingering in spite of the risk, to ground himself. Before they reached the main doors. Bitty stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Jack,” he said carefully, searching his eyes.

Jack let out a slightly trembling breath and shook his head. “Sorry. That was both easier and harder than I expected.”

Bitty nodded. “I wish I could do something more than this.” He reached over and squeezed Jack’s wrist.

Jack smiled and shook his head. “I’ll be alright. I will.”

*** 

That, it turned out, was a lie. Jack was a mess of nerves and anxiety, and when Kent was checked into the boards and didn’t get right up, Jack felt everything crashing. His face felt numb, a faint buzzing in his ears, and he was unaware of much until he was shoved outside.

It took him a moment to realise they were behind the arena, in the staff car park. He was sat at the edge of the loading dock, his feet over the edge, and Bitty was between his knees, holding his hands, and guiding his breath.

“Out again,” Bitty said.

Jack realised he’d been following Bitty’s breath the entire time. He disengaged with Bitty, swallowed, then offered a bare hint of a smile. “Uh. Thanks,” he whispered.

Bitty nodded, his face a mask of concern as he squeezed Jack’s fingers. “Kent’s alright.”

Jack’s breath came out a bit shaky again, but he nodded. “Did he…”

“He texted. You, then me. He saw me rush you out of there. Bruised ribs, knock to the head but his helmet absorbed most of it. No concussion, and nothing’s broken.”

Jack licked his lips, then remembering what Bitty had said earlier in the car, he reached up with tentative hands and curled them round Bitty’s shoulders. “Could you euh…”

Bitty seemed to get the idea, because within seconds he melted into Jack’s embrace and tucked him close. Jack slid off the dock to get a better grip on Bitty, burying his nose in the shorter man’s hair, and after a while, he was calm again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I knew this was going to be a lot for me. And I knew that seeing him out there without any way to help…” He shook his head.

Bitty carefully touched Jack’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You have nothing to apologise for, Jack Zimmermann. Everyone understands.” He hesitated, then said, “I think I’m going to grab a ride home with the guys tonight. You should stay here with Kenny.”

“Bits…” he started to protest.

“I think y’all need a few hours at the very least to yourselves. It wasn’t a bad hit, but it was still a hit, and he could use a little boyfriend pampering. And since I’m not,” Bitty said, and when Jack made a noise of protest, Bitty pressed a finger to his lips. “I’m not and it’s okay. I like Kent a whole lot but I’m happy. So you two get to where you need to be, and maybe just text me.”

Jack felt something warm in his gut, both pleasant and a little terrified because he wanted Bitty there so badly. He wanted time alone with Kent, but what he was feeling for Bitty was a lot, and it felt wrong to be alone. He reached up and cupped Bitty’s cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

Bitty’s cheeks went pink and hot with a blush, and he ducked his head shyly before nodding. “I don’t have a lot of experience so it probably won’t be any good but…”

Jack tipped his head down, and Bitty went up on his toes, and their lips met. It was soft, chaste, steady. A gentle dance of their mouths, breaths mingled. Jack opened his lips just a little, to slot better against Bitty’s, and Bitty let out a small hum as he curled his fingers into the front of Jack’s shirt.

When they broke apart, Jack grinned at him. “I think you’re selling yourself short, mon doudou.”

Bitty giggled and pushed his face into the front of Jack’s chest, sighing happily. “You’re gonna be the death of me. I can tell.”

Jack chuckled and wound his fingers through Bitty’s hair for a moment, taking comfort in being allowed to have this. After a bit he said, “Do you want to get back in?”

“I think Kenny might like it if we get to see him win,” Bitty said cautiously. “But if it’s too much for you…?”

Jack shook his head. “I’ll be alright.” He let his fingers tangle with Bitty’s until they absolutely had to let go. Jack could feel eyes on him, but as he sat back down, he caught Kent’s gaze who was waiting for his line to go out, and he gave Jack a firm nod. Jack smiled back, and let his thigh brush against Bitty’s to keep him grounded.

When it was over, the Falconer’s won 4-3, and he was able to kiss his boyfriend as they left the ice.

*** 

“…and that assist,” Ransom gushed at Tater who was smiling gently. “I mean…work of art.”

“Golden,” Holster added.

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Alright you two, honestly. I think Mr Mashkov has other places to be.”

“I think Tater Tot is enjoying himself,” Kent said, elbowing Alexei who turned faintly pink. “It is late though, and my ribs ache like a bitch.”

“Oh hon,” Bitty said, then shut his mouth quickly like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. No one seemed to notice though, and Jack watched as Kent slid up to him and lean down to whisper something in Bitty’s ear. He flushed, then nodded and gave Kent a hug. “Y’all take care of each other and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“And bro,” Ransom said, leaning toward Mashkov, “you have to come down for Epikegster. It’s going to be wild.”

“Broooo,” Holster said, nodding quickly, “that would be swawesome!”

Tater shrugged, looking over at Kent. “I’m think that could be fun. Not get much chance to experience college parties.”

“God, the coach is going to kill me,” Kent groaned, but it was obvious to Jack that his University life and his NHL life were going to intersect more than he anticipated. The both of them smiled as they linked hands, and watched as the others made their way out.

Jack felt the loss profoundly, as grateful as he was to have Kent here, to be near his old teammates who still felt like family. He sighed, looking at Tater who wore a somewhat sappy expression.

“I’m think they flirting with me,” he said with a wink. “Zimmboni, you get me number of your college friends, yes?”

Jack groaned, and covered his face.

*** 

Crouched between Kent’s legs, Jack gingerly ran the tips of his fingers across the bruising. Kent’s ribs looked like a damn sunset, and Jack murmured a few curses in French when Kent had first shed his shirt, but in the end decided spending time covering him in light, gentle kisses was better than being upset.

Kent smiled at him, dragging his hands through Jack’s hair, letting him get it all out of his system. When the kisses slowed, Kent dragged Jack up toward his face. Their gazes locked, and Jack bent low to brush his lips across the faint bruise on Kent’s temple, then dragged his lips along his jaw.

“I love you,” he breathed.

Kent chuckled low, under his breath. “I love you too, babes. It was rough not having you out there with me, but I’m glad you made it.” He paused as Jack settled against his side. “I thought I lost you for a minute there.”

Jack let out a tiny sigh, shrugging. “I…yeah. I’m sorry. It was a little overwhelming.”

Shaking his head, Kent tightened his grip. “You did fucking amazing, Zimms. Better than I would have. I’m proud of you.”

Jack flushed hot all over, turning his head just as Kent turned his, and their lips met. The kiss was slow, a little dirty with a wet slide of tongues, and when Kent pulled back, he dragged Jack’s bottom lip with his teeth a little.

“I’m glad Bits was with you,” Kent added a few minutes later.

Jack closed his eyes, then nodded. “Me too. We…our first real kiss was just um…just after.”

Kent laughed, scraping his nails against the nape of Jack’s neck. “I mean, maybe a little awkward, yeah? But if it felt right…”

“It did. It’s still a little weird, when it’s not you. He kisses differently.”

“Less nice?” Kent asked, the question earnest.

Jack shook his head. “Less experienced. We euh…haven’t really talked you know? About anything physical. Things have been a lot and none of this has gone normal speed. But I think…I hope…he’s happy.”

“Are you?” Kent pressed.

Jack stared at Kent’s eyes, which currently looked sort of a sea green, and he dragged the back of his knuckles along Kent’s jawline. “I am. With you. And with him.”

Kent nodded, then tugged Jack close, tangling their legs together. “Miss him?”

Jack couldn’t help a tiny, sheepish laugh. “Maybe.”

“Me too,” Kent admitted, pressing the curve of his grin against Jack’s temple. “You wanna drive up and surprise him tomorrow?”

“I think he’d like that,” Jack said. “And…I would too.”

“Good,” Kent muttered, then turned Jack’s face up to kiss him again. “Thank you for coming tonight, babe.”

Jack nodded, tightening his grip. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

*** 

“He said he just got to the supermarket, then he’ll be at the haus,” Kent said, staring at his phone. “Will we make it?”

Jack nodded. “We’re like five minutes away. I texted Shitty before we left and he’s expecting us.”

“So what? We lay out on his bed and tie bows round our waists?” Kent asked with a wink.

Jack rolled his eyes, smacking his shoulder. “Cute. I actually think he might appreciate it, but I don’t want to put him on the spot.”

Kent huffed. “Yeah well…” He fell silent, and got a look on his face Jack knew well.

“What is it?” he pressed.

Kent fiddled with the radio dial, then with his phone, then sighed several times before he murmured, “I think I like him, Jack. Like like him.”

Jack couldn’t help a laugh. “I know that.”

“But I told him…”

“I think,” Jack said very slowly, “you should talk to him. Do you want to date him?”

“Yes,” Kent blurted, then flushed and shrugged. “I felt so wrong when he left that weekend and we had established you know, that I’m a fucking disaster. I should have just…” He paused, letting out a frustrated breath. “Do you think he wants to date me?”

“No,” Jack said, and let that stew a minute with a tiny smirk. “I know he does. He told me.”

Kent smacked him on the arm. “You’re a fucking dick.”

“And yet you love me.”

***

They arrived at the haus, and there was no sign of Bitty. Shitty was overly excited to see them, as were Ransom and Holster, though they seemed mildly disappointed that Tater hadn’t come along. Kent was half tempted to just tell the two D-men that Tater would be more than happy to give them whatever they wanted—hook-up, dating, anything. But he figured he’d give it a little time.

Besides, he was distracted by his idea. Grabbing Zimms by the sleeve, he pulled him aside. “So about that ribbon idea…”

“Kent,” Jack said with a sigh.

“Well okay I don’t even have a ribbon, but I was kind of thinking I’d go wait on the bed when we get home, and maybe play some cheesy love song? Then ask him to be my boyfriend.”

Jack couldn’t help a tiny grin. “I think Bitty’s cheesy enough he’d like that. Assuming he wants to come back with us.”

Just then, the door opened and they could hear Bitty’s exasperated voice, “Goodness, y’all’d think I was gone for a year with what you…” His voice trailed off as he came round the corner and saw Jack and Kent stood there. His cheeks went pink, and the bags from the shop dropped onto the floor. “What…?”

“Surprise,” Kent said. “We uh. Thought it would be more fun to hang around Samwell and Shitty was nice enough to let us in. To surprise you.”

Bitty’s eyes were wide, and he looked like he was fighting back a grin. “Well goodness, I am surprised.”

Jack shuffled from one foot to the other, staring at the other haus members who obviously knew something was going on beyond friendship. Kent couldn’t appreciate more that they were saying nothing as Bitty regained his bearings.

“Well. Good. You can stay for dinner. I promised these boys I’d make a few pies. Then we can head out.” He paused to hug Jack first, then Kent, then brushed past him to the kitchen.

Kent hip-checked Jack a little and said, “Go keep him company, I’ll entertain.”

Jack nodded and disappeared, and Kent spent the rest of the afternoon impressing the D-men with his candid, behind the scenes videos of Tater and the guys being obnoxious.

*** 

It was just gone six when they managed to escape the haus. Kent was feeling anxious, and not being able to touch Bitty when he wanted to was driving him a little up the wall. But soon enough they were in the car, and Jack was driving, which left Kent in the back seat, leant up between the two of them, and he had one hand draped against Jack’s shoulder, the other on Bitty’s.

“Thanks for being cool. We probably should have just asked you but…”

“It’s fine,” Bitty said, giving Kent a bright, sunny grin. “Y’all can surprise me with spending time with you whenever.”

“Except during finals,” Jack said.

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Or especially during finals. Jack can be the study nerd. Kent can come rescue me from it.”

“Done,” Kent said just as Jack said, “Don’t encourage his procrastination.”

They all laughed, then Bitty spent a few minutes chirping Jack for his focus, though it was kind and so fond it made Kent ache inside. 

They got to the condo quickly, and Kent could barely contain himself as they got in. Jack clearly knew what he was up to, smirking the whole time about it and distracting Bitty in the kitchen as Kent rushed to the bedroom. He threw himself on the bed, then scrolled through his playlist, frustrated when nothing sounded good enough.

How, in his entire library, was there not a single song which encompassed how he felt about Bitty. It was startling and overwhelming. Kent hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, about how good he felt here. How good he felt in Providence. How empty he felt when Bitty was gone. The moment he’d told Bitty he didn’t want to date, he regretted it, like nothing he had before.

He held his breath and said a small prayer that Bitty would understand, would forgive him, would maybe want this, too.

It felt like an eternity before Bitty finally walked back, looking slightly cautious as he poked his head in the room. “Hey, Jack said…”

“Bits!” Kent said, a bit too loud, and he quickly softened his voice. “Um. Could you um. Come here?”

Bitty nodded as Kent pushed up to sitting, and he eased himself on the edge of the bed. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Kent’s heart began to flutter and he reached out carefully. “Can I hold your hand?”

Bitty laughed, then reached out and when their fingers tangled together, Kent yanked him over. Bitty giggled as he situated himself on Kent’s lap, and he gave Kent’s thigh a soft pat. “Something you needed?”

Kent took a breath, then looked at Bitty carefully. “So remember so long ago when we had that talk about how I wasn’t ready to date?”

Bitty lifted a brow. “Yes, right, all those days ago.”

Kent snorted. “Well I…think I…” He sighed, then scrubbed a hand down my face. “You’re great, and I can’t think about my life without you in it. And I was a fuckin’ idiot because well, that’s just who I am and I understand if you don’t want to but…”

“Slow down, honey,” Bitty said, putting his hand in the centre of Kent’s chest. “Are you saying you want to date me too?”

Kent bit his bottom lip, then nodded.

Bitty stared, then shoved his face into Kent’s chest and erupted into giggles.

“Hey!” Kent protested, though he held Bitty tight, “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You just…you just…” Bitty gasped between giggles, “You look so nervous, sweetheart. And I just keep thinkin’ that this strong, gorgeous, rich, incredible, professional athlete looks nervous about askin’ me to be his boyfriend.”

Kent rolled his eyes, but smiled as he brushed his fingers through Bitty’s hair. “Yeah well. You’re really cute. And you make me nervous.”

Bitty’s cheeks erupted into a flame-red blush and he ducked his head. “Y’all are going to kill me, you and Jack both. Gosh.”

Kent pushed two fingers under Bitty’s chin and lifted it so their gazes could meet. The humour drained away, and Kent’s eyes were narrow and serious. “I like you. You drive me crazy, and you’re gorgeous and smart and sweet. So Itty Bitty, you wanna be my boyfriend.”

Bitty surged up and grabbed Kent by both cheeks. “Only if you promise never to call me that again.”

Kent laughed as he curled his fingers round Bitty’s wrists. “I can’t promise a thing.”

Bitty sighed, but he was grinning and he let his thumb brush along the corner of Kent’s mouth. “Honey, I would _love_ to be your boyfriend.”

Kent felt the words surge up his spine, and he was almost overcome. “Can I…could we…seal it with a kiss?”

Bitty laughed, and nodded, then closed the distance between them. His kiss was soft, close-mouthed, but warm enough to make Kent’s fingers tingle. Bitty held on to Kent’s face through the whole thing, and when he pulled back, he was breathing heavier.

Kent gripped Bitty by the hips, pushing their foreheads together. Jack had been right. It was different, it was new, and Bitty was inexperienced. But he also felt so right, and Kent wanted to hld him, keep him there forever.

*** 

Late that night, the three of them curled up in bed. Kent was still nursing his ribs, and Bitty was all nerves until the pair of them were clear they had no intentions of going faster than Bitty was ready for. So in pyjama bottoms and fuzzy socks, they slipped into the bed at the Providence condo and tangled together.

They fit. A little awkward, learning new shapes, but Jack found himself smiling over Bitty’s head as he and Kent drifted off. Bitty was already asleep, clinging to Jack’s front, his back pressed into Kent.

“Ça va?” he whispered.

Kent reached over Bitty, grabbing Jack’s hand. “It’s new and…different,” he whispered. “But so good.”

Jack chuckled and drew his thumb along the top of Kent’s knuckles. “I’m happy, Kenny. I wasn’t sure I could feel this good again.”

“Guess we just needed to find that missing piece,” Kent said. He pushed his nose into the back of Bitty’s hair, breathing him in, and Bitty murmured softly, pressing backward into the embrace.

Jack brushed his lips across Bitty’s forehead and felt content.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr [omgittybits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/omgittybits)


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